


Save Me From Who I'm Supposed To Be

by social_reject



Series: Rebellion [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/social_reject/pseuds/social_reject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Lucas has the weight of the world on his shoulders; the loss of his best friend, an upcoming rebellion, and an arranged marriage looming on the horizon. A blessing clad in weapons happens upon Lucas' wedding carriage. Now two reintroduced boys with years of questions built around them are dependent upon the others survival. </p><p>Or: Prince!Luke and Orphan!Rebel!Ashton AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Perfectly Executed Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post on here and I'm really, truly excited about it! This website and this fandom on this website in particular just seem like a rad little family. So here is the first part to a new story, I hope you enjoy! :D

Sunlight spilled its way past the mountains impossibly tall peaks, washing the land in a warm glow of radiance, the scenery much too beautiful for an event so gruesome. Prince Lucas shifted in his throne, his growing limbs hanging off the edge, his feet not yet able to reach the perfectly swept ground below him. The young boy reveled in the comfort that his two older brothers offered with their presence beside him, the younger boy molding his actions after their regal behavior. Lucas truly hadn’t the knack for presenting himself at such an event, the only other one he’d bared witness to was when he was much too young to remember or be accountable for.

The brilliant sun was completely overhead now, the marching of the guards catching everyone’s attention, the crowd parting automatically for the services of the royal. Two officers dutifully dragged a man behind them, the man’s knees sweeping the dirt road, arms hanging limp in their tight grasps. A stony silence swept the ever growing crowd; only a child’s wail breaking apart the thickening silence. The criminal was pushed forward onto the stage where the ax and station sat, its impending doom glaring fear into the face of the commoners.

 Time dragged just as surely as the criminal being brought forward, from his angle high above the restless crowd, Lucas could clearly see the man searching, his head now darting back and forth as his eyes set a feverish pace scanning the crowd before landing straight ahead. Lucas knew what was to become of the criminal and chose not to watch as his stomach twisted in a menacing grimace of dread. Instead the young prince focused on the target of the criminals eyes, a child not but a couple of years older than Lucas himself who stood at the front of the crowd in the custody of the royal guards. The boy’s curly caramel hair covered his eyes but not the tear tracks that bled down his cheeks. His pouty lips quivered once before his hands covered his face.

Attention averted back to the stage as the boom of the guards voice echoed around the crowd, Lucas felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest, despair rising up as realization swung down upon him like the blade of the ax. The young boy with the quivering lips and beautiful hair was the son of the criminal being sentenced to death, one of the most notorious men that roamed the kingdom. From the things that Lucas overheard floating through the castle walls this man had many a warrant for his arrest in several kingdoms. It had been in Lucas’ kingdom that the criminal had been caught, some people say that his son was present during his capture, a little shadow clutching helplessly to his leg as the guards wrought the freedom from his life, dragging him mercilessly to the pit where he would wait his sentence.

Lucas had seen the curly haired boy sneaking into the dungeons of the castle that held his father, ‘the dirty bastard’ as Lucas’ own father had coined him, and felt a stab of sympathy for the boy. Rumors had maliciously plagued the kingdom, poisonous tongues carrying them through the castle walls to Lucas’ ears. He could never quite make sense of the words being spoken of this man and never took it upon himself to figure them out; he just knew they were not nice. He’d only once overheard his brothers discussing the criminal as his execution date neared, they’d called him ‘Sir Irwin’ but Luke knew that title was not one he was to repeat to his father. This man was nothing but a criminal to his father and therefore deemed not important enough to even have a name.

Hearsay had Lucas gathering bits of the man’s life; he wasn’t just a criminal, but a father, a husband, a brother, a son, a human. According to gossip the man had lost his wife during child birth and was therefore a single parent trying to raise his son. Many of the women who worked in the castle fawned over the man, using words Lucas couldn’t comprehend as his ten years weren’t compatible with the sultry vocabulary the ladies used. Some had coined him “the staple to an upcoming rebellion”; others had used his father’s words. Either way Lucas wasn’t sure what the man had done, or why he was being taken away from his son permanently. All Lucas did know was that his son would have to carry his father’s name with him wherever he went, diminishing him to a life as a castle servant.

Lucas knew what to expect of the ax situated so elegantly bathed in the sunlight but couldn’t bear to actually watch it, so as the guards ceremonious words came to a close and the man was situated for certain death, he turned his face. A tension steadily rose through the crowd up to where his royal family sat, his older brother Jack gripping the thrones arm rest with anticipation. How disgusted Lucas felt upon the taunting smile that spread over his father’s pursed lips was immeasurable. Lucas had spent most of the previous night listening to his brothers convince him that executions were always for the good of the people in their kingdom and how in their entire candor, best for the executed as well. Lucas had bit his tongue when he wanted to ask if they were best for their family, knowing that crossed a line.

Wiggling his feet back and forth Lucas received a jab from an elbow to his forearm, not even bothering to check the identity of his mild abuse because he knew it was just Jack communicating to him to be still. It was always a torturous thing for Lucas to be still during any occasion that required his immediate attention, his mind always finding a way to slip into other lands, lands where there was nothing but royal parties with offerings of gifts wrapped in bright papers. And they were all for him, of course. And there were never, ever, any executions, especially beheadings.

Lucas forced himself to still as the preparations were coming to a close, he pretended his legs were bound to the legs of the throne so he would not swing them and looked ahead into the crowd, knowing he would not be able stomach the execution. A whoosh of air and a smack later, Lucas’ eyes settled upon the only thing he didn’t want to see more than the beheading of the man, his son. The older boy was visibly torn apart, his hair in disarray as he pathetically attempted to free himself from the guards custody, kicking and thrashing as they towed him away, screams floating through the otherwise dead air.

Lucas’ father rose from his throne, greeting the commoners with an air of superiority that came naturally to the bred leader, Lucas able to see it pouring out of him for the whole of his ten years. Unconsciously Lucas blocked out his father’s words, not able to get the image of the man’s son out of his mind. His heartbreak was evident on his face, tiny lines of grief creasing his forehead as screams erupted from his tiny body.

 

 

Over the next month Lucas could not shake the memory of the grief stricken boy from his mind. Visuals assaulted him consistently, depression racking his body in the dead of the night. Lucas had only once worked up the courage to ask what happened to the boy, though he already knew the answer, it was solidifying to know that the boy was okay as he could be. Jack told Lucas that he had seen the boy himself in passing, always busy with maintaining his duties as a server.

Lucas had been reprimanded many times during his lessons for not paying attention but today was a particularly rough day for his mind to keep on track. Just beyond the lessons room outside was shining, the sun perfectly overhead, only a few clouds drifting by in a blissful sort of breeze. Lucas would have given anything to be outside right now and not learning, his lessons dull in comparison to the shine of the sun.

“Lucas!” His instructor snapped, a heavy book falling onto the princes desk, his attention pulling away from the adventures outside.

Lucas offered a halfhearted apology and promised himself he’d keep his attention devoted to his lessons until they were complete. Minutes passed without incident, Lucas truly keeping his word to himself until his promise was accidently shattered as his attention was pulled outside where metal against metal clamored on. Even his teacher rose from his seat to look out the window, inspecting what was happening, evidently blocking the view from Lucas.

“Release the boy and we shall spare you good sir,” Jack hollered, his voice echoing around the room. Lucas smiled to himself as he realized his brothers were prison breaking him. They were older than Lucas and had sword lessons on the commons in between regular lessons.

 “Jack,” his instructor warned authority wavering as he stared down the prince. “Now is not the time for play.”

“I’m not playing,” Jack said as seriously as Lucas had ever heard him.

After an audible sigh and an arm gesture towards the door Lucas found himself running out of his lessons room into the hallway eager to meet his brothers. He would have taken the window out but he assumed his instructor would really frown upon that. His feet pounded the marble floor in his haste to get outside, tunnel vision narrowing in on the hallway that would lead him through the doors. He rounded the corner with a vengeance only to be knocked off his feet, his backside landing roughly on the polished floor.

“I’m so sorry, really, really, sorry,” a voice above trembled, a slight fear in the tone.

Lucas blinked slowly and hiked his weight onto his arms to look up, a hauntingly familiar face staring back at him, hazel eyes wide in worry. Recognition all but assaulted Lucas, a persistent tugging in his chest as he looked at the boy who once had lines of grief creasing his features, now he looked nothing if not exasperated. Lucas’ manners slipped away from him for a moment as he stared at the boy unsure what to do as he lingered above him. Finally the boy offered a hand in help and Lucas took it thankfully.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked carefully, the terror in his voice melting away as he helped Lucas to his feet.

“I’m fine,” Lucas assured once he had his bearings. “Are you?”

The boy chuckled slightly as Lucas’ hands shook; the boys’ presence after such a time of worrying about him had shaken Lucas. He hadn’t truly expected to be faced with the boy no matter how much he had worried about him since the execution.

“I’m not the one who fell,” the boy replied making Lucas smirk. _Well played,_ he thought but wouldn’t dare say aloud. A silence fell upon the two boys as they sized each other up. Lucas had built up an image of a shattered orphaned boy over the past month but the boy who stood before him now was not shattered so much as cracked. Dark circles shadowed underneath the boys beautiful eyes which no longer had hair masking them. Since entering the service of the castle his hair had been trimmed and he’d been put into servants clothes.

“I’m Lucas,” Lucas introduced unsure what to say next.

The boy took a small step away from Lucas as recognition flickered through his eyes. A small gasp left his mouth as he shook his head, “You mean Prince Lucas?”

“You can just call me Luke,” Luke offered. Prince Lucas was what the court called him; Lucas was what his family and instructors called him. Luke was what he had decided his friends would call him; this was his first chance to have a ‘friend’ test it out.

“Luke,” the boy mused the name rolling off his tongue melodically. Luke cracked a smile as the boy giggled slightly. “I’m Ashton.”

“Lucas! Come out come out wherever you are!” Jack’s voice bellowed between the two newly introduced boys. Metal scratched against marble, a shrill sound if Luke had ever heard one.

Sensing that Luke had elsewhere to be Ashton quickly dismissed himself with an excuse of needing to get back to the kitchen before they noticed his absence. Luke wanted to invite Ashton to go outside with him and his brothers but the older boy was retreating before Luke could muster out the words.

“There you are!” Jack exclaimed with a broad smile as he rounded the corner, his sword dragging along the floor behind him. “I thought you might have gotten lost in here.”

“In my own castle?” Lucas asked. His brothers were always on him for being the youngest, treating him as if that automatically made him the dumbest as well.

“You mean dads castle,” Jack corrected. “And then Ben’s castle.”

“Right,” Lucas mumbled as he trailed behind a disappearing Jack. All of his pent up eagerness to get outside vanished just as surely as Ashton had with the mention of the future, knowing even at just ten years old he would be married off to another kingdom come his eighteenth birthday. Being the youngest in a royal family was like being the leftovers from a feast, either sent off someplace else or thrown in the trash.

With dismal thoughts of the future planted in his head Lucas staggered through the rest of the day bitterness clutching onto him. He tried his best to let the resentment go, knowing that he lived the most privileged life he possibly could have, his mother had always told him that, but somehow it always crept back up on him. Small reminders such as what Jack had said to him were constantly bugging him. Sometimes he wished he were never a prince that he was just a boy able to live a normal life with friends and fun and marry for love, not for power.

 

 

Lucas’ eleventh birthday came and passed in the blink of an eye, most of the now eleven year old boys time was filled with Ashton, the two boys growing closer by the day much to his families distaste. Luke would never understand why his family looked so down upon anyone not bearing a royal title. These were the people who were protecting his family’s royalty, feeding their mouths, keeping their kingdom prosperous with crops, and driving the workforce to make coins, Luke could never imagine not giving these people the decency of respect when they did everything for him.

It was nearing lunch time on a breezy August day when Luke snuck down to the kitchen to see Ashton, wanting to tell the older boy all about how he’d had his first real sword lesson. Sure it had been with wooden swords and an instructor as old as dirt with no real threat behind it; he didn’t even get to strike swords with his instructor. They had only gone over muscle movements and the proper technique behind holding a sword, but Luke was still ecstatic, he was one step closer to being like his brothers.

Passing the round head chef he made his way towards the dishes where he knew Ashton was stationed. The boy’s curly hair came into view and Luke sped up to reach the older boy, he tapped him on the shoulder and greeted him with a toothy smile. The older boy returned the sentiment easily and dried his hands off with a rag before they quickly embraced and Luke set off on telling Ashton all about his sword lesson.

“Soon I’ll be the best swordsman in the kingdom,” Luke boasted excitedly as they made their way out of the kitchen and into the hall that would lead them out to the commons.

“You’re going to need a lot of practice,” Ashton said, his tone completely neutral. That was one of the biggest things Luke admired about his newfound friend. He could never detect any hint of jealousy, resentment, or harsh feelings for the privileged life Luke led. Luke was so used to everyone only using him for his title, for his family’s riches, or some other materialistic reason, but with Ashton there seemed to be no other reason for friendship other than friendship.

At first Luke was concerned that maybe Ashton spited him for what happened to his father and Luke was careful to tiptoe around the subject until Ashton had confronted him about it. The older boy told Luke to stop being so worrisome, it wasn’t Luke who’d lowered the ax, and it wasn’t Luke who made his father’s bad decisions.

“I know, maybe someday you could practice with me?” Luke offered, just the thought of spending more time with his friend enough to convince him that dragging him to his lessons was worth it.

“Maybe someday,” Ashton agreed a far off look in his eyes. “But how about today we go down to the gardens?”

 “Race you?” Luke suggested and took off before any verbal confirmation from Ashton. Luke knew he needed the head start to even have a chance of beating Ashton, he swore Ashton was the fastest kid in the kingdom, maybe fastest person in the kingdom, and sure enough Ashton passed Luke easily just before passing through the iron gates that led to the gardens.

“I won,” Ashton laughed. “Even though you cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat!” Luke argued even though he knew he sort of had. 

“Did so,” Ashton persisted and flopped onto a stone bench.

“Maybe a little,” Luke relented with a giggle and sat next to Ashton who was busy examining the fully in bloom flowers around him. Luke couldn’t help but notice the way the sun lightened the boy’s curls or how his skin was sun kissed to a pretty golden color. Times when Luke could just stare at his friend left his tummy with butterflies frolicking around and his cheeks heating up. He wasn’t sure what these reactions meant or why they happened, but he sort of liked them.

 

 

As Lucas grew older he could spend less and less time with Ashton, most of his time occupied with princely duties, lessons, and a new forced family time. In almost a blink of the eye Luke was twelve, all gangly still growing limbs, shaggy hair and slight muscle build from his sword training. His own transformation seemed normal to him, able to see himself every day in the mirror in his changing quarters but Ashton’s seemed to bombard him every time he saw his older friend.

Ashton was much taller now, much broader and had a much more masculine handsomeness to his face. Luke knew the change had to have been gradual but with months in between time spent together Ashton went from his playmate to a man at just fourteen years old. Luke wished he looked half as masculine as Ashton had become but with two years in between he knew that wouldn’t be happening for a while. For now though, as he looked in his mirror, he was content with what he saw.

“Luuuuke,” Ashton’s voice drawled from the doorway.

Excitedly Luke spun on his heel and darted out of his changing quarters, it was rare that Ashton was able to break away and find him; it was usually the other way around, so this was a great surprise to Luke. Ashton opened his arms and Luke threw himself into them in greeting. Time apart only made the boys bond stronger it seemed.

“Where have you been lately?” Luke questioned as he pulled away from the hug hesitantly.

“Oh you know, just around,” Ashton answered vaguely. Sensing not to push the topic Luke just nodded as he drank in Ashton’s presence.

“Well do you want to go to the gardens? Or down to the water?” Luke asked readying himself for a race. Even though Luke had grown taller and his legs longer Ashton was still able to beat him at any race no matter the length of it.

“We could, but I was thinking maybe you could show me your sword skills?”

Luke recalled a long ago mention of practicing swords with Ashton and now months later the suggestion made Luke inexplicably excited. Ashton wanted to see Luke’s skills! He’d been working really hard to master his swordsmanship. Luke nodded enthusiastically and grabbed Ashton’s hand, pulling him out of his room quickly.

Soon enough they were in the hall of swords Luke chatting happily about the history of each sword, explaining the purpose behind each, and how to properly handle them. Every now and then Luke snuck a glance at his friend who was staring intently at the swords around them, knowledge flooding his beautiful hazel eyes.

“So have you ever practiced with any of these?” Ashton asked.

“No, no, these are all too valuable to use, my dad would kill me if he ever saw me touching one, let alone using it for battle.”

“Oh. Okay. How about you show me some moves now?” Ashton inquired to which Luke smirked.

“Alright, come on.”

The two boys wandered out of the hall of swords into the empty practice grounds, completely outside except for the surrounding walls, the fresh air welcome after working up a sweat. Luke picked a sword out of the practice ones and started with showing Ashton the stances at which you hold your sword. Quickly Luke got bored of stances and moved onto some of the basic moves Luke’s instructor had been hounding heavily upon him. His instructor said he needed to be perfect at the basics to ever be good at the more sophisticated moves. With a few slices, parries, and guards Luke had all but shown Ashton every move at his disposal so far.

“So what’d you think?” Luke asked his breath coming in heavier pants after the exertion.

“You’re getting good,” Ashton complimented genuinely, a small smile on not only his lips but in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Luke accepted and swung the sword point down into the ground.

A silence settled upon the pair naturally, each never wavering as they looked at the other. It could have been seconds, minutes, or years that they didn’t break eye contact, that weird feeling back in Luke’s stomach, until his father’s voice broke apart their gazes. The king’s voice bellowed from the hallway, Luke’s blue eyes going wide in fear. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in here without his instructor, he especially wasn’t supposed to be yielding a sword without his instructor. Quickly Luke sheathed the sword and grabbed for Ashton.

“Whoever wins the tournament shall win his weight in gold,” his father’s voice carried. Luke knew by the sound distance they hadn’t enough time for escape so he settled for hiding. Pulling Ashton along with him Luke ducked into a corridor just off the grounds, the exit a mere dash away, but without enough time to make it.

“Yes sir, and when shall the tournament take place?” A croaky voice that belonged to the swordsmith and swords master, Sir Grey, asked.

“A fortnight away,” the King answered. Luke could just barely spot his father on the practice grounds, sideways to Luke’s view. Luke pressed closer to Ashton in the confined space afraid that his father may turn at any given moment. He needed to be shadowed off, but more importantly Ashton needed to be absolutely hidden. His father tolerated Ashton in the castle as a servant, harsh feelings towards Ashton’s father set aside, but Luke knew well how he felt about Ashton being Luke’s friend. He thought it was ridiculous, absurd, and downright embarrassing for Luke to be seen with Ashton.

While Luke had always stood up for his friend he was frightened of the repercussions that may take place of Ashton’s presence on the practice field. “Luke, what are we doing?” Ashton finally asked in a whisper, his hot breath hitting the back of Luke’s neck, goosebumps rising on his arms from the contact.

“I’m not supposed to be in here alone,” Luke admitted, declining to add any further details.

“If I had known-“ Ashton began but Luke silenced him with a nudge to the side.

“It’s not your fault,” Luke assured and then turned so Ashton could see his face, his finger pressed against his lips in a gesture to make sure Ashton stayed quiet. With wide eyes and quick head nod from Ashton, Luke was sure Ashton got the message.

“There will need to be prizes for second and third place. Also a feast for all those who compete,” the King commanded, and because he’d said it, Luke knew it would be done.

The King and Sir Grey idly chatted for a few minutes about the tournament, Luke tuning them out easily, focused on Ashton’s breath on his neck, the feeling of the older boy in such close proximity to him and how it made his heart thump. Luke was entirely sure Ashton could hear his heart beat and hoped he could pass off the speed and sound as being scared of getting caught, not the position they were in. Once his father made his leave Luke let out a breath of relief and stepped out of the shadowed embrace they were in.

“That was a close one,” Luke laughed, albeit awkwardly.

Ashton nodded in agreement and looked to the sky, the sun directly overhead. “I’d better get back before they notice I’m gone.”

Luke wanted to tell Ashton not to worry about it, that he’d have it excused but feared word would get back to his father, and he knew how much Ashton despised when Luke used his authority in their friendship. They were equals, the two of them, Luke never wanted to make Ashton feel lesser in anyway, so he let the older boy leave with one last hug and a smile to go. And so Luke left as well, headed off to find his brothers who were boasting about the tournament.

That was the last time Luke and Ashton were able to properly interact before the tournament, sometimes they saw each other in passing and Ashton was sometimes assigned to serving duty during meals, to which the two boys only exchanged familiar smiles. The fortnight passed in a blur to Lucas as preparations buzzed around him. Before the young prince knew it he was sat on his throne once more, high above the practice field converted tournament battle grounds.

To Lucas’ right was Jack, Ben immediately to Jack’s right, and then the queen herself, Lucas’ mother, and of course the King with his right hand man not too far off. Lucas watched greedily as the sword fights went on, each move calculated and precise, Lucas often watching footwork rather than the clanging of the swords. While Lucas really enjoyed plain sword fights, jousting was his favorite. They gave more excitement to the uproarious crowd that had gathered.

Once the victor had been named and the crowd dispersed from the tournament field the competitors and their families along with Lucas and his family moved into the most formal and largest dining hall in the castle that could hold up to three hundred. It wasn’t long before delicious aromas wafted through the air and over to where Luke was sat, watching Ashton busy about the dining hall. Once all the food was spread among the scattered tables and people situated in their seats, well past drunk, the King rose, his wine glass in hand, intending to make a toast.

“I raise my glass to the strongest of men and the victor who shall have his weight in gold bestowed upon him by the morn. I should like to thank each participant in this glorious tournament for showcasing tremendous talents on the field today,” The King began forced sentiment and automatic authority clutching to his tone.

Lucas had a horrible gut feeling now, even while looking at Ashton which usually gave him lightness and flurries in his tummy. Now all he felt was a crippling dread.  His father was always a great speaker, very charismatic, but Lucas could detect an edge to his words that other commoners may not have picked up on.

“I shall like to think with the upcoming rebellion started by the dirty bastard Irwin I have the strongest and bravest of men on my side. That we shall restore the kingdom back to what it once was! And all those who fight with me shall be rewarded in kind! All those against shall perish by our swords.”

Unable to take his eyes off Ashton Luke watched as his friend fled from the room, his head down trying to go undetected and he had all except for Luke who was formulating his own escape plan. As the toast went on the crowd became more and more rowdy, war cries belting around the room, cheers of undetermined victory and glasses clinking, amidst the chaos Lucas was able to slip away from his table without notice and out of the dining hall. Luke just barely saw the mop of curls slipping around a corner that would lead to the hall of swords.

Following closely behind, Luke fumbled for any words he could offer Ashton in comfort but came up with nothing but snarled thoughts and undecided emotions. Finally Luke caught up to his friend who had stopped to stare at the Silver Sword displayed proudly on the wall. If Ashton hadn’t stopped Luke never would have caught him. Wordlessly Luke reached out a hand to Ashton’s shoulder which he flinched away from.

“Ash,” Luke murmured unsure what else to say.

“Don’t,” Ashton said sternly before taking leave and running away from his friend.


	2. A Teenage Rebellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 2, which I thoroughly enjoyed writing and hope you will enjoy reading. :D

Six months had gone by since the tournament feast in which Ashton’s last word to Luke was “Don’t”, six months of guilt had eaten Luke alive for something he couldn’t control. Luke honestly couldn’t fathom Ashton’s reaction to the king’s words, Ashton had always been very collected about his father, so six months of stony silence seemed ridiculous to Luke for something he hadn’t said. He’d tried putting himself in Ashton’s place, wondered how it would feel to have lost his father and then have it constantly thrown back in his face, Luke knew it would hurt but he didn’t think he’d take it out on his best friend.

A commotion broke Lucas out of an uneasy sleep, footsteps pounding through the castle halls, echoing off the stone walls into Lucas’ room. He rose and wiped the sleep from his eyes trying to focus them in the dark of the night. He stumbled out of his bed and to the door cracking it open, a dull light spilling through from the torches lit along the wall. Nothing came into his line of vision yet the commotion raddled on. He took a small cautious step out of his doorway to find Jack just down the hall from him with an equally confused sleep ridden look on his face.

“What’s going on?” Lucas whispered afraid to add to the noise.

“I don’t know, just go back to bed,” Jack said with a shrug of forced nonchalance. The older prince turned back into his bed quarters and shut the door firmly behind him.

Unsatisfied with what he got from Jack, Lucas stepped further out into the hallway and listened carefully. The calamity seemed to be coming from the left; almost unconsciously his feet carried him toward the source and down the long corridor, shadows hiding away the castles secrets. As he neared the sound Lucas’ heart rate picked up, unsure of what he was about to step into the boy took a moment to think rationally. Any intruders would have surely been stopped before entrance could be granted. Lucas didn’t feel fear; it was more like a knowing anxiety that something wasn’t quite right _._ Maybe not exactly wrong, but definitely not _right_.

The commotion quieted as soon as it had started and it only swelled Lucas’ curiosity, his pace quickening as he padded down the hallway. He stopped short, the sight before him agreeing with his anxiety, this was not right. There Ashton was in the grip of two guards, a steadfast and stubborn look planted on his face. Lucas didn’t quite know what to say. He didn’t know what was happening to Ashton or what he had been doing up so late but he didn’t want to jump to the wrong conclusion or accusation.

“It’s alright young prince, we caught him,” one of the guards said, shadows hiding his otherwise enormous nose. “You can rest easy now.”

“Let go of him,” Lucas said, in his head it had sounded full of authority and was a demand, in spoken words it sounded feeble and wounded. “Please.”

“But sir, he was trying to escape,” the other guard piped up throwing a pointed look at their newfound hostage.

“I don’t care, let him go,” Lucas demanded this time, proud that his voice hadn’t wavered.

“As you say young prince,” the big nosed guard relented, his grip falling from Ashton’s arm. The other guards fell hesitantly as he speculated the situation for a moment, but Lucas glared daggers at him until he did his bidding and dropped Ashton’s arm. The pair stood there awkwardly a moment until Lucas had had enough, his eyebrows arching in a silent annoyance.

“Leave,” he ordered, teenaged sass dripping from the word as he motioned with his hands.

The guards fumbled about a moment until they finally sauntered down the hall in the direction Lucas had come from. Between the two boys stood unanswered questions, coursing emotions, and a strained silence that was foreign to the friends. After six months of nothing but silence Luke was not going to be the one to break it, if Ashton had something to say, which Luke certainly hoped his friend had the decency to explain the situation, then he’d say it.

Instead of Ashton pouring his heart out to Luke like he had so dearly hoped, Ashton turned and walked away; leaving Luke feeling like _his_ heart had been **ripped** out. Luke wasn’t about to give up on his best friend so easily though, he was a Hemmings God Damn It. Luke rushed after a slowly retreating Ashton, the fact that he was making his escape so slowly left Luke with the tiniest sliver of hope that his friend in fact wanted to talk to him, he just couldn’t be the first to do it.

“Ashton, wait,” Luke called out, damn not breaking the silence, this was Ashton he was talking about. Ashton slowed even more but did not stop as he rounded a corner out of view from Luke. Luke only sped up around the corner, his quickening pace jump starting Ashton to run. As Luke chased after Ashton it felt like the race of his life and he wasn’t going to lose this time.

Eventually Ashton led Luke to the hall of swords and abruptly stopped, Luke slamming into Ashton’s back. Unsure what to do or what to say now that Ashton had stopped running, Luke grabbed the boy and hugged him fiercely, hoping to communicate with him in a way they both knew.

“Luke… don’t,” Ashton croaked but Luke didn’t let go, he only held on tighter.

“Stop telling me that,” Luke whined to which Ashton laughed dryly, a sick sense behind the chuckle.

Wordlessly Ashton pushed Luke off him, gentleness in the touch that would always be with Ashton, even when he was breaking Luke’s heart. He didn’t want Ashton to escape, he didn’t want Ashton to feel like he needed to escape; he just wanted his friend back.  Slowly Luke reached out his hand to Ashton’s shoulder, this time he didn’t flinch, he ultimately didn’t move as he looked at Luke.

“I have to get out of here,” Ashton whispered. Luke realized that the once only cracked orphan boy who he’d run into in his haste to get outside was standing before him finally and utterly shattered.

“Please just talk to me,” Luke begged.

Ashton vigorously shook his head, a stray tear staining his cheek. His lips quivered as he fought to either get the words out or keep them in, at that point Luke couldn’t be sure. With a small step back from Ashton, Luke’s hand fell from his shoulder.

“I can’t do it anymore Luke, I just can’t. I hear the whispers, I see the looks, I feel the knife in my back. Castle servant isn’t the life I want to live, this,” Ashton said waving at his servant’s attire. “This isn’t me. This isn’t what I want.”

“Then stay, I can help you-“ Luke began but Ashton cut him off quickly.

“I want to make my own way. I want to step out of my father’s shadow, I want to be my own man, but I can’t do that stuck inside these walls.”

“But you can’t just leave, not right now,” Luke protested.

“This is the _only_ time I can leave,” Ashton argued with a broken look.

Now it was Luke’s turn to shake his head in a silent protest of ‘no’. Luke watched as Ashton’s eyes flickered to the hallway that would lead to the cargo entrance and exit, the one Ashton was most familiar with and rarely guarded, and knew he had to make his move. In a flash Luke stood before Ashton and the hallway, adamant that he could get through to his friend. It was late, they were sleep deprived, emotions were running high, if Luke could just get Ashton to go back to bed he could talk some sense into him in the morning.

“You’re not leaving,” Luke said.

 “Luke,” Ashton warned in an icy tone.

“You’re going to stay.”

“Is that an order?” Ashton asked completely astonished at how far Luke was willing to go.

“Yes,” Luke said between his teeth. His gut clenched as he watched the hurt cut across Ashton’s usually delicate features.

A standoff ensued, Luke refusing to move away from Ashton’s only escape, Ashton refusing to succumb to Luke’s demand. With a slow, bitter shake of his head Ashton grabbed for the wall, the Silver Sword now in his clutches, Luke baffled at how swiftly he had moved. Ashton extended his arm, the sword point tipped in Luke’s direction.

“Move,” Ashton ordered his voice low and gravelly.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Luke deadpanned.

“Lucas, move,” Ashton repeated, venom soaking the three syllables.

Luke was wrong, Ashton had hurt him. He might as well have stuck the sword through his chest at that point, he’s sure it would have felt better. With hot tears trailing down his cheeks Lucas stepped aside, wanting to leave with some form of his dignity, he pushed past Ashton who was quick to retreat, the valuable sword still in his grip. Lucas slowly and deliberately walked away from the situation, leaving Ashton behind, as he probably should have six months ago.

 

 

Lucas’ fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays passed solemnly, Lucas not much in the mood for celebration, though the whole kingdom partied for and around him. Ben and Jack picked up on their brother’s mood immediately, the morning after Ashton’s escape burned into their minds. Lucas had shuffled out of his bed quarters, his hair in even more a mess than usual, darker circles etched under his bloodshot eyes. Lucas appreciated the effort his brothers had been showing to help him through the loss of Ashton, but it just wasn’t enough.

His brothers were always talking at him about how he needed to talk to them about it, that it would help relieve his emotions, they just didn’t understand that Ashton was the last thing Lucas wanted to talk about. He didn’t want to think about him, he didn’t want to hear about him, he just wanted his memories to fade, for the ache in his chest to dull. This seemed to Lucas nearly impossible, in the two years that Ashton had faded from Lucas’ life; he’d picked up on the radar of the rebellion.

Now Lucas seemed to be trapped within the walls of murmured voices speaking of how Ashton was inspiring something much bigger than what his father could have ever hoped for, and it seemed to the servants that he was doing it for better reasons. Even with escaping the castle and going about the villages in commoners clothes Lucas couldn’t escape the curly haired heart breaker, his roughly sketched face dominating the town as wanted posters hung about everywhere.

On one of his excursions about the villages Lucas had had enough of the talk, of the posters, of the constant reminder that his best friend had pointed the sword at him and left it deep within his heart. Upon the next wanted poster he happened across he tore it down with a vengeance coursing through his veins, an unwelcome hatred flooding his senses. He didn’t want to be so bitter, but he couldn’t help it, Ashton’s words ringing through his head, “I want to be my own man,” and yet he’d left Luke to carry on his father’s legacy of wrong doing.

The young prince had found himself vehemently discussing Ashton’s role in the rebellion with his father one night, hatred tinged words escaping his lips, but not a single syllable he truly believed. It was a cathartic sort of thing for Lucas, his repressed anger at the situation finally collapsing around him.

“I told you long ago that boy was no good, just look at his father,” the King reeled, a drunken hand jostling about a chalice of wine, red drops slipping from the lip of the chalice to the floor where they would stain.

“How did it even start?” Lucas wondered. Every time he’d asked about the rebellion, no matter whom it was directed to, Lucas was told he was too young to understand, that they’d explain when he was older.

His father shifted in his seat, Lucas situated at his feet in front of the lazy fire. A sigh escaped the king, and then finally Lucas was told what he’d wanted to hear, “That dirty bastard started causing commotion in my kingdom years before his dirty bastard of a son was born. He put unrealistic ideas of treatment into citizen’s heads, started riots and protests against my name. He _wanted_ to start a war. And yet he always eluded capture and responsibility, bouncing from kingdom to kingdom using churches as sanctuaries, perfectly timed robberies sustaining him and his rotten son.”

Lucas hugged his knees to his chest trying to make sense of his father’s words; he turned his head to face his father so he could press him for a further explanation but his head had lulled to the side, his hand holding the chalice limp against the arm rest. Lucas sighed and headed off to his bed quarters, knowing it was past his due time for sleep.

 

 

With the passing of Lucas’ sixteenth birthday came Jack’s wedding day, he was to be wed off to a princess of a bordering land, putting him as the heir to the kingdom. Jack was squirming in his changing quarters; the long carriage ride to his new kingdom had left him antsy. Ben was there to calm Jack down having been through this whole spiel before. Lucas considered Ben very lucky in the fact that he was able to look at his princess like she were the most precious gem stone he’d ever happened across, and she gazed back the same way.

Lucas and Jack were well aware that more often than not arranged marriages didn’t end so happily, and that knowledge had Jack fidgeting as his older brother tried to calm him. Lucas tried not to think of these things any more than he tried to think of Ashton, but with only two years until his own day it was a creeping anxiety. Soon enough it would be him at the end of the altar and not the ever so reluctant Jack who was still fidgeting, his fingers tapping against his leg. Lucas smiled at how nervous Jack looked, it truly was a rare commodity; his older brothers always seemed so perfect. And to think Jack was so nervous about a girl.

From his position in the grooms court Lucas had a straight shot over the guests in the rows of seats, the gardens behind fully in bloom, a long ago memory tugging at his chest. As the music proceeded and Jack’s bride began her march to the alter, Ashton crept into Lucas’ mind, fond memories of racing to the gardens or chasing each other across the commons twisting the knife in his heart. Lucas didn’t understand how such a happy memory could cause such unbearable pain or why, even after two years, he still cared so much.

Beyond the mass of people in their finer clothes for the occasion sat pile upon pile of gifts, the most valuable and important ‘gift’ in the center. To be bestowed upon Jack after the ceremony sat the heirs crown and sword, the sword melded from the finest gold the bordering kingdoms couldn’t have even dreamed of. Rubies were set into the hilt of the sword, the handle wrapped in the most polished leather. It wasn’t a battle sword so much as a decorative staple of bearing a royal title and handing over power.

The princess of wherever it was Lucas had ridden off to, he hadn’t completely been listening to his brothers on the carriage ride over, had just been given away by her ailing father, the need for the union even more urgent. Ceremonious words filled Lucas’ ears, but once again he refused to listen to them or acknowledge his immediate surroundings. Instead of watching the wedding his gaze flickered past the pile of presents to the surrounding gardens, trying to keep his emotions collected.

In a blur of color and a whoosh of wind people were screaming, the gifts had toppled causing a domino effect, and horse’s hooves trotted across the freshly trimmed grass. Chaos.  Pure chaos had erupted around the ceremony, interrupting a very distraught looking priest. Jack had sprung into action immediately searching for the source of the commotion for only a moment when it became clear. Men equipped with battle gear, shields, swords and crossbows, with the emblem of the rebellion proudly displayed on them, surrounded the wedding proceedings. They hadn’t outnumbered the party but they had a weapons advantage. It seemed fruitless to fight unless it was completely necessary.

Lucas’ heart thumped and his hand flew to his sheathed sword as the leader of the rebels rode in. Lucas didn’t need the man in front of him to take the helmet off to recognize him; Lucas would have known him in a crowded hall of people. And yet the helmet came off, waves of caramel tumbled to the man’s shoulders and hazel eyes drank in the crowd with a hesitantly small smile spreading across his lips as he unsheathed his own sword. The sword may have aged and been beaten and scuffed up but it was still completely recognizable, Ashton was now yielding the Silver Sword in the presence of Lucas once more.

“Wedding goers, I would like to issue a very formal warning on your behalf. This union is only fueling the fires of rebellion. We will not be silenced or controlled by this sham of a marriage! No longer shall one family control the lives we live; no longer shall we live in fear of the executioner’s chopping block for disobeying. We will prevail.” Ashton announced.

He tugged the reins of his horse to gallop towards the dilapidated pile of presents. With the point of his sword he picked the crown up, slid it down the blade and grabbed the golden sword and sheathed it. His troops began to gallop away as back up guards began their descent into the ceremony, shouts of men killed at the gates soaring through the air. Ashton hesitated a moment and turned to face the crowd once more, the silver sword held high.

“We do not want a war, we want justice. But if it comes to war, all those who fight with me shall be rewarded in kind! All those against shall perish by our swords.”  

With those words, spoken in icy volumes, and eye contact penetrating through Lucas to his soul he finally realized how Ashton must have felt. If in that one moment Lucas was feeling even a fraction of what Ashton had felt for years, the young prince finally understood his reason for leaving.

 

 

After the disastrous wedding ceremony the now united kingdom’s came together to put an end to the rebellion, it’s effects reaching masses of people in both lands. The kingdoms knew the best way to put a stop to the rebellion, kill the source of uproar. Execute Ashton. When Lucas overheard his father and brothers discussing how best to go forth with capturing Ashton, Lucas’ heart sank. Sure, Lucas had been extremely upset with Ashton for leaving him, he’d been angry, he’d been heartbroken, but after witnessing Ashton in action and having those words thrown back in his face he couldn’t just let Ashton be killed.

“We need to corner him in his safe spot,” his father suggested. Lucas’ ear was pressed to the closed door; he could just picture his family pouring over maps trying to track his old friend down.

“We don’t _know_ his safe spot,” Ben’s voice pointed out agitatedly.

“Then we find another way,” his father demanded. “We’ll send men around the entire kingdom, heavily armed, permitted to kill, he’ll have no choice but to give himself up. He can’t just preach and not practice.”

“We’re not going to kill civilians to get him to give himself up,” Jack interrupted.

Only a few days after the ceremony had the king of Jack’s inherited kingdom passed away, leaving all the power to Jack. Unlike Ben, Jack wasn’t letting his father use him as a puppet; he was making his own decisions, solely based on what was best for his kingdom. If Lucas ever wanted to be a king one day, that’s the sort of king he’d want to be.

Silence surrounded Lucas; he could picture his father staring down his middle born son. “Then do we call for a war? Start a draft?” Ben proposed. Lucas shook his head absentmindedly. That was the last thing they needed.

“No, that would just cause unnecessary violence in our kingdoms, the cost of damages would be detrimental,” Jack explained.

“Then we’re at a standstill,” Lucas’ father commented bitterly, apparently starting to see the light Jack was shining upon him.

“We can raise the reward for the capture of Ashton, dead or alive,” Ben said.

“Have new posters made and hung,” the King demanded. And that was the end of the discussion.

Quickly Lucas ran from the door, his feet carrying him towards his bed quarters without realizing, his heart beating faster than his feet. This wasn’t the first time Lucas had spied on his family, each time their words gnawing at his stomach, making him physically ill. His father and eldest brother talked of war like it was no big thing that their citizen’s lives were theirs to spare. Not once had they mentioned listening to what they’d been criticized upon, they’d only, if anything, made things worse.

They were playing into Ashton’s hand, execution rates at an all-time high. The King demanded anyone associated with Ashton’s propaganda be executed. The civilians were frightened of the monarchy and the chopping block, but they were more frightened for the future of their children. On Lucas’ trips about the kingdom he’d overhear parents speaking of how they would never want their kids to grow up the way they had, how they needed a better hand to deal.

Once Lucas made it to his bed quarters he launched onto his bed and slipped himself under the covers just before a knock on his door had him pulling them back and calling for entrance, Jack stepping through the doorway, an uneasy smile on his face. Lucas knew Jack must have known he was eavesdropping. Instead of reprimanding Lucas like he was sure Jack would do he strolled to the side of his bed and sat on the corner.

“What are your thoughts?” Jack asked. Lucas knew the implications behind the question, yes Jack knew he was spying, no he must not have truly cared.

Lucas fumbled for words, unsure how to react to that. No one had ever asked him for help that way. No one wanted to know the youngest son’s opinion. For a moment Lucas thought deeply, “It doesn’t matter what I say or do, no one listens to me.”

“I do,” Jack corrected fondly. “Look, once upon a time you knew Ashton like the back of your hand. You must have some idea where he could be hiding?”

“I did, but I don’t know where he is, and even if I did know what makes you think I’d give him up so easily? I wouldn’t let you guys march in there and kill him, no matter how much pain he caused me.”

“I don’t want to kill him. I want to talk to him. I want to hear what he has to say, I think he knows what he’s talking about, and I want to learn from him. And reach an agreement.”

“Truly?” Lucas asked not quite believing his brothers words.

“Honestly,” Jack promised, a held out pinky for Lucas to link with. The gesture went as far back as Lucas could remember. He and his older brother always pinky promised each other, if they were doing something they knew they shouldn’t be doing they’d pinky promise not to tell or stand by each other’s sides if caught.

“Alright, we’ll try to find him,” Lucas promised, linking his pinky with his brothers.

“Thank you Lucas,” Jack said and stood to leave.

“You can just call me Luke.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, a little taken aback by the boldness of the statement. Their whole lives family had always called him Lucas, never Luke.

“Yeah,” Luke amended to which Jack smiled and left with the promise to call him Luke. Once Jack left, Luke deflated, all of his emotions temporarily slipping away from him as he for once fell into a deep, undisturbed slumber.

 

 

Over the course of three months Luke and Jack used a secret passageway under the stairs as a rendezvous point for their secret meetings about Ashton. Luke had dug deep into his memory, as much as it pained him to do so, to find even a hint of where Ashton may have set up camp. After many failed attempts at trying to pinpoint him, Luke became highly discouraged; worried that someone may truly bring his friend in dead or alive. Jack stayed supportive, promising Luke they’d be the ones to find him.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Jack said to which Luke sighed.

“I’m sorry I’m not more help,” Luke offered but Jack just laughed and clapped him on the back.

“You’re the only one with reason in this family other than mom; you’ve been more than helpful.”

Luke mulled over his brothers words as they left the passage and made their way down the hall. Jack would be riding back to his own kingdom tonight, every other fortnight spent in his old kingdom to either prepare for war or capture Ashton. About half way down the hall that would lead to gardens Lucas’ father stopped them with his booming voice echoing off the walls.

“There you boys are, come we have much to discuss.”

Lucas was baffled, his father never invited him to discussions, especially over the past few years, so he followed behind him dubiously. Jack threw Luke a shrug and an unknowing shake of the head. Their father led them to a small sitting area, a roaring fire in front of three stuffed chairs as if he’d called upon someone to set up an area for them to speak in.

“Have a seat,” his father motioned to the chair in the middle, even more suspicion rising in Lucas. His father always sat center or at the head of the table, this all seemed very strange to him. He was about to question it as he sat down but his father beat him to the punch.

“You’re probably wondering what’s going on,” he began to which Lucas nodded slowly, clearly confused. “I think it’s about time we talk of marriage.”

“He’s still got time,” Jack cut in quickly sensing Luke’s discomfort.

“Fifteen months is no time at all,” his father quipped.

Words escaped Lucas, ever since Jack’s own wedding he’d pushed the whole scenario out of his mind completely, and now here it was staring him down in the form of his father’s words. Lucas truly couldn’t fathom why he must have an arranged marriage as well, his brothers already ruled the most territory than any other family.

“Well what should I do about it?” Lucas asked earning a slight glare from his father for his tone.

“We are just discussing Lucas, no need to be so brash. You don’t have to marry the girl tomorrow.”

“The girl? As in you’ve already had someone betrothed to Luke?” Jack asked quickly. The older sibling only earned a slightly odd look from his father for the name change.

“Yes, she’s the only child of an aging king off in the east, it was arranged years ago.”

“And you’re only now telling me?” Lucas asked a bit outraged at the aspect of it. If his father had known this whole time he could have possibly met this girl before his wedding day. Ben had met his wife a year before marriage and that was one of the reasons why they worked so well. It didn’t feel as forced as if you were to come face to face with person for the first time as she walked down the aisle.

“It was not of your worry then,” his father declared.

Luke looked to Jack who mouthed to him, ‘Pick your battles’. Luke repeated the mantra in his head a few times before collecting himself enough to proceed, “Do I get to meet her before the wedding?”

“That wouldn’t be wise,” his father replied flatly.

Instead of having an adult conversation with his father on the topic, Lucas fled the room quickly, his stomach churning in discomfort. He’d always known the day was coming, but he’d always reminded himself it was a far way off. Now with even his father mentioning it, the whole aspect of arranged marriage frightened him to his core. Lucas didn’t want what Jack had been given, a lifetime of awkwardness and discomfort in his own home.

Truly he wanted what Ben had, an unconditional love. Sure Ben’s marriage was arranged but that didn’t stop the two from falling in love with each other and looking upon one another as if the world would stop if they stopped. Lucas pushed all thoughts of marriage from his mind as he raced towards the gardens, the familiarity a strong comfort to him.

 Only a small tinge of hurt crossed him as he took in his surroundings. He could almost picture Ashton in all his glory, hair tumbling in waves, skin tan from the blazing sun as he looked upon the flowers. Unconsciously Lucas reached out his hand as if to touch Ashton and came up empty, inside and out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anybody who has taken the time to read this, leave kudos or bookmark it. It means the world!


	3. A Reunion

Lucas’ marriage carriage bumped ruthlessly down the dirt road, the top of his now eighteen year old head hitting the carriages roof without mercy. He had chosen to ride solo to his new kingdom, needing time to himself for reflection. Though he was alone in his carriage he had men following behind, his father declaring the rebels were to much a threat to go without protection. He had yet to meet his bride even though he’d been informed of her existence months ago. Undeniably this didn’t feel right, the whole aspect of arranged marriages never felt right to Lucas, he never understood how you could live happily ever after with a stranger.

The ride to his new kingdom was daunting as his mind was able to fully immerse itself in doubts and fears. Every bump in the road seemed to taunt Lucas, as if they were preparing him for the worst that had yet to come. For a few moments the carriage rode on smoothly, but as with many things it was just the calm before the storm. With a sudden jerk to the right, the carriage toppled off its wheels, Lucas smashing into the side with a painful crack of his shoulder. As Lucas collected himself swords smashed together in an endless fight outside the walls confining him.

Quickly Lucas made his way out of the toppled over carriage, his only exit the other side of the carriage. He pushed the door up and peeked outside, all around him his men were in battle.  Lucas hitched his leg over the side and hefted himself out, both hands on the grip of his sword as he pressed his back to the sideways wheel of the carriage, feeling a bit more secure. He drew his sword hesitantly, never actually using it in real combat before. The scene before him took a moment to fully soak in his mind for processing, but once it did, he was in motion.

Lucas’ men were surrounded on all sides by those of the rebellion, more and more rebels pouring out through the wooded area, swords striking swords, arrow points ripping through Lucas’ men easily. Pure terror ripped its way through Lucas, totally immobilizing him. An arrow sliced its way through the air, lodging itself in the wood of the carriage directly next to Lucas’ head, making him spring away from his once safe area. Tripping over loose rocks, he fell to the dirt below him harshly, his already aching shoulder searing with pain as his head fell back with a thud, his sword falling from his grasp.

“Retreat!”

All around him Lucas’ men were scrambling to retreat after the words of their commander. Swirls of royal red swarmed past Lucas, his head hazy as he tried to pull himself up, his world spinning faster and faster with each passing second. Words got caught in his throat as a wind rippled past him, his men’s feet pounding the earth in their escape, the prince totally looked past. Struggling to maintain consciousness from the blow to his head, Lucas dragged his limp body haphazardly towards the carriage, hoping to use it as a shield from the retreating commotion around him.

Suddenly he stopped his own attempt at retreat when something firm grasped his ankle, with a sharp tug his body was jerked backwards, his mind falling into the abyss of unconsciousness. Silence surrounded him in a dark embrace, tendrils of light bursting through the seams of what the abyss created. He could have fallen for seconds or decades, time was obsolete as he drifted.

 

 

“I say we use him for ransom until the king bows to our commands,” an unusually rough voice grumbled in a drift through the slowly shattering abyss.

Lucas’ eyes fluttered open, light assaulting his senses with a riptide of pain. He realized he was laid on his back, his face to the sky, sun directly overhead. Past the glare mountainous bodies towered above him, outraged faces staring at him.

“Or we could just kill him,” another voice swept in, a painful foot landing on Lucas’ chest, the air puffing out of him. His hands instinctively flew to his chest where the foot had landed only to realize they had been bound. He wiggled his feet expecting it when he found those were also tied off.

“Execute him the way the king has been executing us for years,” someone said. This time Lucas forced his eyes to follow the orotund voice. An old man’s angry gaze met him with a malicious smile. His already erratic breathing from the weight on his chest grew even more panicked.

“Execution!” Someone bellowed from behind the small gathering, electing an echoing chorus of ‘execution’.

“Silence!” The first rough voice ordered, the chant coming to an early end. Lucas was immeasurably glad the man had spoken; he didn’t know how much more chanting his head could take as it still throbbed. The ache in his shoulder considerably dulled.

The foot pressed to his chest finally relented as it stepped off, slowly his breathing pattern returning to something of normal. The binds around his bare wrists were surely chaffing, his skin raw from the friction. Though his breathing was evening out, his heart rate increased rapidly, thudding uncontrollably against his ribcage, every pound sending a new terror through his mind. Though the rough man had silenced the crowd there was still an undeniable need for violence seeping from the eyes trained on him.

With some of his dignity in tact he scooted himself into a sitting position as to speak with the anxious crowd of rebels. He figured he needed to buy time until his men would return to save him. He convinced himself they’d finally noticed his absence and were on their way to him, ready for battle like never before.

“I say we chop his head right off, just like they did to the Irwin man!” A new voice sounded from the back of the accumulating crowd.

For one horrible moment Lucas pictured Ashton at the chopping block, his mane of curls as uncontrollable as the blade of the ax. Visions of red surrounded the curls and invaded all that Lucas could see until he snapped out of it and realized they had meant his father. Terrible anxiety rippled its way across Lucas’ chest, his bound hands tightening into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.

The arguing group continued in their debate, Lucas eyeing a small gap in the crowd. If only he could just slip through unnoticed he could try to make a run for it. Slowly and unnoticeably Lucas worked his bound hands on the knots at his ankles, using small and precise movements to not draw attention to him. Once the knots were completely undone he inched forward, his behind dragging in the dirt, amongst the chaos that was the crowd he went undetected. Once at the small opening he crawled through without notice and launched himself to his feet, taking off at a steady pace.

Hollers and hoots called after him once his presence was finally noted absent, he pushed his legs to go faster and further with each stride. Horses hooves now pounded behind him, sure he was not able to outrun a horse he slowed to find a hiding spot, figuring if he couldn’t outrun them he surely could out hide them. Even now in a chase against his life memories of Ashton wrapped around him. They used to use the castle as one huge game of hide and seek; Ashton could find Luke without fail each time.

Noticing a small gap between two boulders up ahead Lucas shifted into a turn to use as a hideaway but was pulled up off his feet, his heart thudding harder than the pounding of hooves. Swept totally off balance Lucas closed his eyes, vertigo attacking him at all sides. Wrapped around his middle was the strongest arm to have ever held him yet gentle all at the same time.

“Swing your feet up,” a honey like voice ordered, in a daze of confusion Lucas followed instructions carefully, his legs wrapping around a bare back of a horse. “Put your arms around me and hold on tight.”

Lucas’ eyes were still shut tight, his head instinctively nuzzling into the back of the stranger as his secured arms came down around the strangers front tightly. Soft hair tickled at his cheek as they rode on, the horse moving furiously fast, taking dangerously sharp turns and galloping leaps over what Lucas assumed to be fallen trees. Leaves and branches whipped past Lucas, hitting his arms in a stinging force, but he tuned it all out and listened to the breathing of the stranger, trying to match pace. Breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in and breathe out.

Suddenly the ground beneath them was no longer moving, the pounding of hooves had silenced, and the wind blowing through Lucas hair had stilled. In the back of his mind he realized he should have let go of the stranger many moments ago but dizziness was washing over him, sure that if he were to dismount he’d tumble to the ground. The stranger seemed content to wait until Lucas could pull himself together; the only movement was that of them untying Lucas’ hands which he was grateful for.

Once comfortable in his ability to stand Lucas pulled away from the strangers back, muscles protruding from a ripped riding shirt, and signature honey curls drifting in the slight breeze. With all the heart palpitations Lucas had had today he was utterly surprised he hadn’t dropped dead yet, but as the familiar stranger turned around his heart all but stopped as pools of hazel met his eyes. He felt like he was drowning.

“You alright?” Ashton asked, concern lacing his tone, his eyes scanning over every inch of Lucas.

In utter disbelief Lucas shook his head back and forth as he dismounted the horse a bit shakily, Ashton landing elegantly on the ground before him offering a hand to his back to help support him. Lucas leaned in to the touch automatically, feeling every sense of comfort from the warm hand on his back, millions of memories flooring him.

“Luke?”

“I can’t believe after all these years of searching you’re the one who found me,” Luke muttered out, the nickname Ashton had used lifting his morale a bit. Even after all these years Ashton had such an impact on Luke, it was truly unbelievable how the use of his name made every hurt from the past seem so insignificant.

“I was always much better at hiding than you,” Ashton laughed softly, the sound like a long lost melody to Luke’s ears, very enchanting.

“I’ll say,” Luke muttered, shifting his gaze to the forest floor where orange leaves had made their descent from the surrounding trees.

In the near distance a clamor blundered on, recognizable shouts echoing around the air. Luke looked up, Ashton’s eyes widening as the noise drew closer. The hand on Luke’s back guided  him, his feet stumbling to keep up with Ashton as he lead him into a small thicket of trees and past that a poorly constructed cottage with smoke rising from the chimney.

“What about the horse?” Luke asked as they had abandoned the animal.   

“It’s not mine,” Ashton answered, a cheeky smile spreading across his face as Luke laughed. He could have figured.

Ashton shut and latched the door behind them; two sets of footsteps came from the back of the small cottage around a small corridor which Luke assumed was bed quarters. A pale man and in contrast a quite tanned man walked out warily, unasked questions written on their faces. They didn’t have long to wait before Ashton answered those questions, for half a second  Luke assumed they had entered a strangers home, but his worries were put to ease with Ashton’s explanation.

“Boys, meet Luke, he was uh- in a bit of trouble, so I brought him back here. He’ll bunk with us tonight and I’ll help him on his way tomorrow.”

A knowing smirk crossed the paler man’s face, a twinkle of knowledge gleaming in his eyes, “It’s so nice to meet you Prince Lucas.”

“Ashton’s told us much about you,” the tanned man jumped in. Luke’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment, unsure if it was the royal title in use, or the fact that Ashton had apparently told them all about him, though he would have put his money on the latter.

“Calum, Michael, enough,” Ashton warned halfheartedly with a finger pointed at each boy, seemingly unfazed by their taunts.

A silence settled around the small enclosure, the cries of the rebels finally drowned out as they’d passed, until Michael and Calum looked to each other for a moment, communicating silently, much like the way Ashton and Luke used to do. Seeing the fondness between the two pulled at a built up resentment within Luke that he thought he had gotten over. The two men headed towards the door passing Ashton and Luke quickly.

“We’ll go get some more fire wood,” Michael excused as he tugged on Calum’s hand once the door was unlatched.

Ashton re-latched the door behind them and spun around to meet Luke’s intense glaee. Luke had drifted off to a time long ago when the two boys were merely hiding in a corridor to not be reprimanded by Luke’s father. And now they were here, hidden within the confines of a rebels cottage, other rebels out for Luke’s life, Ashton’s rebels out to kill Luke.

“Maybe I should be heading off now too,” Luke began, small footsteps leading him to the door Ashton was still stood in front of.

“Are you crazy? You’ll get yourself killed, those extremists are ruthless,” Ashton panicked, using the whole of his toned body to block the exit from Luke.

“Extremists? Don’t you mean rebels?” Luke inquired with the arch of his eyebrow. Luke wasn’t completely educated on the rebellion but he thought he knew enough to know what they were called.

“Maybe once they were rebels, but now all they want is the king’s blood. They don’t want peace anymore, they want sacrifice. And if they can’t have the king I’m sure they will not hesitate to kill you.”

Around a lump in his throat Luke continued, “I can handle myself. I’m sure my men are looking for me.”

“It surely looked like you had it handled as you ran for your life,” Ashton protested.

“I’m not a child I can make my own way home,” Luke begged to differ.

“Luke, this is no man’s land. I doubt you even know how to get back to the road to lead you home.”

“What concern is it of yours?” Luke fired off, resentment bubbling to the surface, surely about to spill over.

The fact that Ashton was finally stood in front of Luke for the first time in years and he wasn’t groveling for forgiveness but was instead acting cool and collected had Luke’s anger hitching. How dare Ashton point the sword at him and then act as if nothing had happened? How dare Ashton stand before him looking happier than he’d ever been in the castle, how dare he live his life without Luke?

“You’re my concern, I care about you Luke,” Ashton whispered, an outstretched hand reaching for empty air as Luke stumbled back.

“No you don’t get to do that to me, this isn’t my fault; it’s yours. You’re the one who took off; you’re the one who abandoned me. You don’t get to care about me. You don’t get to call me Luke anymore,” Lucas thundered, sadness coating his words over the frustration.

Ashton, totally taken a back, his face dropping as surely as his offered hand let his guard down long enough for Luke to slip past him and out the door. Leaves crunched under Lucas’ heavy foot as he stormed off; passing the thicket of trees he recognized on their way to the cottage and stopped dead in his tracks when he came to an open field, trees surrounding every side. Though he was to bitter to admit, Ashton was completely right, he had no idea where he was, having his eyes closed on the way there was a major hindrance to his sense of direction. Night was rapidly approaching, the sun setting behind the never ending forest, darkness falling upon the sky.

“What are you doing out here alone?” Michael’s voice called from the left as he emerged from the wooded area, a pile of fire wood in his arms, Calum with his own load beside him.

“Leaving,” Lucas answered quickly and decided to head right.

“Ash won’t like that,” Calum remarked as Lucas made distance between them.

Foot falls followed Lucas but he figured it was just Calum trying to stop him. The footsteps became quicker and more panicked, Lucas picked up his stride, ducking under branches and hopping over brush until finally familiar arms encircled his waist and their now connected footing stumbled to a stop.

“It was never about you Luke; I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to hurt you. I woke up and decided to end my hurt. The last thing I wanted to do was break you, I didn’t think you’d have to watch me leave. I didn’t think I’d point the sword at you. I just needed an escape. I thought I could find happiness on my own. I thought you’d be better off without me holding you down. I thought everything would be easier. But I was wrong, and I’m sorry, so, so sorry,” Ashton mumbled sincerely into Luke’s neck. “Please don’t go?”

Maybe that was the difference between Ashton and Lucas, Luke realized, Lucas had demanded him to stay, Ashton asked him not to go. Lucas demanded Ashton stay because he wanted him there, Ashton asked him not to go because he didn’t want Luke to get hurt. With the realization crushing him Luke melted into Ashton’s arms, unable to deny his request. 

“Okay, I’ll stay,” Luke amended as he twisted in Ashton’s grip to come face to face with his long lost best friend. Only inches separated the two, breath hitting each other’s faces as gazes held. “But only for the night.”

 

 

Morning sunlight spilled through the cottage window directly into Luke’s face, he groaned and stretched, his limbs crying with relief after a long night of fetal position. Ashton had given up his bed for Luke, claiming the floor would suit him just fine. Luke truly appreciated the sentiment but couldn’t quite fit the whole of his body on the bed and thus was forced into a tangled up position.

“Morning sunshine,” Ashton honest to God giggled from above the bed, his tan faced framed in sunlight and curls. Luke couldn’t comprehend how Ashton could be such a staple to the rebellion with sword skills of intimidating proportions _and_ the sun in the sky, the light of his life, with the most infectious laughter.

“Morning,” Luke groaned through a prolonged yawn.

“We should get going soon if you want to make it back to the castle by nightfall,” Ashton spoke, Luke unable to detect anything in his tone.

“Alright,” Luke agreed. He had been the one to say he’d only stay the night so he didn’t understand why he felt so compelled to beg Ashton to let him stay. He didn’t want to go back to the castle. He didn’t want to be shipped off to an arranged marriage but that didn’t mean he wanted to stay here.

“I’ll take you to the outskirts of the villages; Michael and Calum have agreed to take you the rest of the way. I can’t be seen anywhere inside the villages or the rats will have my head on a spike by the morn,” Ashton explained gruesomely albeit honestly.

“I’ll put your head on a spike,” Michael’s voice trailed past the open bed quarters followed by a chuckle. Ashton only rolled his eyes in response to Michael.

“You’re going to let him say that to you?” Luke asked concerned.

“He’s Michael,” Ashton said in lieu of explanation with a slight shoulder shrug.

Luke didn’t quite know what that statement indicated or who Michael really was to Ashton but he let it drop as he sensed it was taboo. He did though want to mention the fact that he was perfectly capable of navigating the villages on his own, having done it incognito for years but saw the steadfast look on Ashton’s face and decided against it. Once Ashton’s mind was made up, he was stubborn until the last moment. He would never let Luke venture on his own.

“When was the last time you ate?” Ashton asked pulling Luke from his thoughts, a low rumbling in his belly a great barrier of silence.

“Yesterday morning,” Luke answered. Just the thought of eating had him metaphorically drooling. Visions of fine cuisine drifted through Luke’s foggy morning mind.

“Let’s get you something to eat before we head out,” Ashton suggested to which Luke nodded immediately.

The pair made their way to the kitchen where a kettle was heating over the hearth, Michael and Calum huddled around a makeshift table devouring what looked like slop to Luke.  Ashton passed him a serving and a cup of tea, Luke thanked him and barely stomached the slop, Michael and Calum snickering in their corner.

“What’s wrong, don’t like porridge?” Calum questioned behind a laugh.

“Oh stop,” Ashton reprimanded. “You’re the one who cooked it so it’s no surprise Luke doesn’t like it.”

Michael shook his head in disapproval as he assured Calum it was fine. The rest of their ‘meal’ went by in silence. Ashton was the first to break the silence once all was eaten. Ashton practically had to herd Calum and Michael out the door, Luke following closely behind. Eventually Ashton fell back to walk in time with Luke.

“I probably should lead the way, those numbskulls could get lost in their own cottage,” Ashton laughed but nonetheless matched pace with Luke.

“How do you know them anyway?” Luke wondered.

Ashton sighed contentedly as he launched into the story; the surrounding woods becoming thinner as they marched on in time to Ashton’s rhythmic voice, “We met during a rally; their parents were big supporters of my father during his time. I guess it’s only natural that they were raised with the ideals my father was trying to instill into people. Now with the raging rebellion they’ve chosen their side and have been the most loyal people I’ve ever met.”

“Oh,” Luke gulped, hurt crossing him briefly.

“Other than you of course, you were always with me never against me. We were good,” Ashton trailed off, an unspoken awkwardness lingering between them, good and bad memories filling the air between them.

“Even _I_ can feel the tension back there. Why don’t you two kiss and make up already?” Michael chided as Calum made exaggerated smooch noises.

Luke’s cheeks stained red, it was obviously a joke to the boys in front of him, but just the thought of kissing Ashton had Luke squirming in embarrassment. Michael and Calum continued easy banter with the other as Luke and Ashton fell into an even weirder silence than before. Luke placed his hand to the back of his heated neck searching for something, _anything_ to say to Ashton to veer them back on track. Words eluded him as the sun kept moving over head, a dirt road finally in their line of vision. Luke thanked the Lord that they would be able to walk a straight line finally and not stumble over loose rocks anymore, evidently falling into Ashton each time.

Finally a clear path to the road laid before them, before stepping onto the road though, carriage wheels sounded in the near distance, going faster and faster with each second, until it came to an abrupt stop in front of them, men on horses coming from the shadows of the other side of the woods. Ashton tensed beside Luke noticeably, his feet preparing for a quick departure but it was too late, royal arrows and swords stared down Ashton from most every angle. Luke gaped, terror striking through him.

“Ashton Irwin is hereby put under arrest by command of the king and sentenced to death for treason, theft, and kidnapping,” the head commander announced with a solemn look at Lucas.

“No you don’t understand-“ Luke began but the words got stuck in his throat when his brothers exited the carriage. Ben wore a triumphant look while Jack shook his head apologetically. “You can’t-“

“It’s alright Luke,” Ashton said calmly, so calmly in fact it frightened Luke more than if Ashton were to put up a fight.

With slow deliberate steps Ashton made his way over to the guards, his hands in front of him for binding. The guards looked over Michael and Calum who had gone statuesquely still, masks for faces with lack of emotion. The guards circled Ashton’s comrades as they reached for their concealed weapons hesitantly. Luke’s focus shifted as a grunt and slice sound ripped through the stilled air. Ashton now had the commanding officer in a hold, his own sword pressed to the flesh of his neck.

“I don’t care what happens to me so long as you let them walk away,” Ashton said as the other soldiers flanked him, their swords and bows at the ready.

“No,” Ben declared. “They are wanted for treason.”

Ashton tilted his head to the side, pressing the blade a bit further into the soft flesh, a line of blood dribbling around it. Luke immediately felt queasy at the sight of the scarlet dripping so carelessly down the officer’s uniform. He was reminded of why he had stopped practicing with swords, he couldn’t stomach blood, death, or anything that went hand in hand with the likes.

“Your Royal Highness,” the officer pleaded his complexion paling.

“If you kill him, you’ll die here and now,” Ben spoke clearly, keeping intense eye contact with Ashton.

“Alright,” Ashton agreed with a head nod. He dropped the sword and put his hands up in surrender much to Luke’s confusion until he looked back to where Michael and Calum should have been and only saw leaves stirred up from their escape.

“Your Royal Highness, they’re gone,” one of the dimmer officers pointed out. Luke looked to his brothers, Jack mouthing to Luke that was incredibly sorry, Ben looked a bit floored, the criminals escape surprising him.

“Get his hands and feet bound and into the cart,” Ben ordered as he stomped back to the royal carriage, beckoning Lucas to follow him.

Luke passed Ashton worry clear on his face, but Ashton took it all in stride, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Luke didn’t understand what was going on through Ashton’s head and was supremely glad that he didn’t, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the workings of his mind. Luke paused next to Ashton just long enough to hear him whisper low enough for only the two of them to hear, “Everything is okay.”

The ride back to the castle was tremendously long and torturous, Luke the whole way trying to think of ways to help Ashton and tearing himself apart from the inside because he was the one who’d gotten him in this mess. If he had just been able to fend for himself when the extremist pulled them over, if he hadn’t convinced himself it was okay to spend the night Ashton wouldn’t have had to take him back. If he had just left when he said he was going to Ashton would not have been caught and sentenced to death.

Once the carriage hit the villages, commoners filled the streets, some staring in triumph at the passing convict, some in worry of the rebellion, others waving flags of war high above. They made a hasty trip up to the castle and towards the back entrance where the pit was most easily accessible. Lucas tried reasoning with Ben but he would not hear of it, Jack stayed silent except for a quickly whispered apology to Luke as they half dragged half carried Ashton out of the cart and into the pit, slamming the door shut and locking it.

Ben began to guide everyone away from the pit, Luke promising himself he’d sneak down in the night to spring Ashton from his holdings. He’d be damned if he were to let Ashton waste away in there and inevitably die. He wasn’t just going to sit back and watch.

“I demand a trial!” Ashton proclaimed shaking the bars on the door to the pit mercilessly.

Ben turned, quite interested in what his prisoner was saying and retorted, “You need no trial we have evidence enough to execute you.”

“Not a trial by jury but a trial by the sword,” Ashton explained.

Ben’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Trial by the sword had not been used for decades. No one wanted to leave their lives up to fate rather than reason. Ben shook his head in consideration, eyes gleaming with a conniving plan behind them.

“Are you so sure that is what you want, prisoner?” Ben inquired.

“Yes,” Ashton answered.

“Alright, in the morn my best swordsman against you in a fight to the death, should you prevail you may live on,” Ben responded. “But should you live on, it shall be in these confines.”

Luke’s stomach turned at the thought of Ashton living his life behind bars but his heart nearly stopped at the thought of the other option. Ashton agreed to Ben’s terms, and off they went. Luke truly hoped Ben was underestimating Ashton’s abilities and his confidence was all for not. It was past time for sleep but Luke couldn’t, his mind whirring all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who's read thus far.


	4. A Game of Survival

Before sunrise Luke managed to sneak down to Ashton’s holdings, two incompetent guards asleep on the job making his mission much easier. In just two more days Luke would be sent back to his new kingdom to be wed, but first he was supposed to watch his best friend be sentenced to an untimely death. Chilly air caressed Luke as he hopped down the last step to the pit and searched through the dark, finding Ashton in the back of his cell head lulling to the side in an uneasy sleep. Luke grabbed the keys that were hung on the wall near a torch light and slid them into the lock, the door sliding open creakily, waking Ashton.

“Luke, what are you doing?” He asked groggily.

“Jail break,” Luke replied.

Ashton shook his head vehemently, “No, I can’t just leave.”

“Yes you can. Or have you forgotten how to use your legs?” Luke quipped in a whisper, the guards stirring only slightly from their conversation.

Ashton sighed and moved closer to Luke but still completely within the confines of his cell, “And where am I to go once I leave? They’ve surely got informants on the outside; they’ve probably even found and destroyed the cottage.”

Luke thought for a moment, trying to find some form of reason for Ashton to leave other than death. Ashton was much too proud to back away from a fight if his life was the only reason. He’d rather die a hero than walk away a coward. Luke truly wished Ashton had kept his mouth shut and hadn’t asked for a trial by the sword. Quickly Luke racked his brain to find something that would convince Ashton leaving was his best chance.

“You have to go,” Luke began.

“It’s not that simple,” Ashton jumped in.

“All we have to do is leave. We can find Calum and Michael and flee the kingdom, we can start new,” Luke said without thought. He didn’t know what starting new would entail or the troubles it would bring but it surely sounded better than death or life imprisonment.

Ashton stood stone still, his features completely neutral and washed out in the dim glow of the torch lights, “We?”

Now it was Luke’s turn to go still and silent. Luke was undecided if the fact that he said ‘we’ was a slip of the tongue or what he truly wanted. Caught up in Ashton’s warm gaze Luke’s mind was made up instantly, “We.”

Luke would be damned if he were to live a life full of lies, he didn’t want to marry this princess of some far off land. He didn’t want to be a king. He didn’t want a whole kingdom as responsibility. He just wanted to live his life as happily as he could. And he’d never truly be happy living a lie of a marriage. Jack was excellent proof of that. Ben was the exception to the rule. Although Luke honestly couldn’t convince himself all that ‘happy’ in Ben wasn’t just a mad power trip.

“Luke, you can’t just leave,” Ashton said apprehensively.

Luke wanted to scream, those words being thrown into his own face felt bitter and ragged. Whatever spite Luke had held onto from childhood shattered as he took a small step forward and closed the minuscule distance between he and Ashton, foreheads pressed together, lips only inches apart. In the back of his mind he knew this was considered wrong, but it felt oh so right once their lips connected and moved in time with each other. Luke’s heart fluttered and his stomach did a splendid little dip when Ashton’s hands tangled into Luke’s hair, forcing them even closer. Luke instinctively placing his hands around Ashton’s waist.

Ashton was the first to pull away, only slightly though, they were still in each other’s embraces, “We’ll leave tomorrow then.”

“How do you know you’ll live to see tomorrow?” Luke questioned, panicked.

“How do you know I won’t?” Ashton retorted.

“Ash…” Luke trailed off uncertainly.

“Do you trust me?” Ashton asked stepping away from Luke, a dash of hurt sprinkled on his face. His mouth turned down and his eyes seemed to lose a bit of their shine as Luke looked at him.

“Completely,” Luke answered honestly.

“Then tomorrow,” Ashton began. Luke wanted to interject but Ashton continued, “It will give you time to prepare. We can’t just leave at the drop of a hat.”

“Fine, but you better be ready,” Luke said as he shut the cell door and locked it again. Ashton only smirked as Luke hung the key back on the wall and stalked off making a mental list of all he’d have to do to prepare for leaving.

Though Luke had extreme anxiety about the events to come in the next few hours he held his composure as the battlefield was readied and his father and brother walked around the castle wearing matching grins of triumph. Luke had never been a violent person, he’d rather train with swords for the athleticism of it than the art of killing, but he swore he would have hit those smirks right off his family’s faces if he could have. Luke played along though so as not to raise any suspicions. When confronted about yesterday he’d told them the truth; ‘rebels’ had attacked and kidnapped him. His family could decipher the meanings for themselves.

Jack stood by Luke’s side, whispered words of comfort easing his mind as he took to his throne, the battlefield finally prepared. From one end of the field the kingdom’s best swordsman marched out, his sword at the ready. On the opposite side Ashton was just making his entrance, fumbling to gather his sword into his grasp. Luke’s heart pounded and sweat dripped from his forehead. The crowd roared with applause and ‘boo’s’ alike. At the horns blow the battle began, Ashton taking a quick leap back from his opponent, swords clashing against each other mercilessly.

Luke’s hands gripped the armrests of his throne without rest, the skin around his knuckles turning white in his harsh grip. Ashton gained control of the flow of the fight, forcing his opponent to be on the defensive side. Ashton cut quickly and strongly, his opponent stumbling over his own two feet and falling back, his sword tumbling out of his hand and away from his reach. Ashton towered above him, Luke anticipating the final blow, but Ashton did not move as he held his sword out poised and ready. Luke held his breath, anxiety coursing through him. He just wanted it all to be over.

The crowd’s intensity grew with every passing second, Lucas’ family oddly cool next to him. His family exuded nothing at the turn of events, and Lucas figured that was because in their minds Ashton would inevitably be sentenced to life imprisonment, little did they know Luke had finalized all preparations for their departure.

Instead of killing the man Ashton stepped back, drawing his sword with him and kicked the man his sword. Luke covered his face with his hands; of course Ashton wouldn’t harm an unarmed man. The crowd thundered, stomping their feet in a steady rhythm. Ashton’s opponent had regained his footing with his sword in hand; a mutual respect flowed between the two as they came to a standstill. Luke had his fingers spread so he could peek out from behind them, not caring that it was foolish to do so. It wouldn’t matter by tomorrow; Prince Lucas would be long gone.

Luke knew that Ashton knew he had to fight, there would not be two people leaving the battlefield alive, and that’s why he was the first to strike. His opponent took it all in stride, parrying when he was supposed to and cutting when he could. Ashton went from a skilled swordsman to an untamed beast within a matter of moments. From his perch above the field Luke could see the sweat slickening Ashton’s forehead, his unruly curls pulled back so as not to be a hindrance. His opponent gave a harsh blow to Ashton’s shoulder, his block not quite quick enough; Luke sucked in air his face contorting to match the expression of pain painted on Ashton’s face.

Instead of falling back in a wounded sort of way, Ashton roared forward, tossing his sword to his uninjured side and annihilated his opponent. Two fast thrusts of his blade and his opponent fell to the ground, clutching at his wounds, shortly thereafter all limbs falling limp. In a matter of seconds Ashton was declared the winner, the crowd screaming as loud and as hard as Luke’s heart.

“He didn’t deserve death anyway,” Lucas’ father mumbled, to himself or to his family Lucas did not know, and would not question. “That’s too easy.”

Luke and Jack shared victorious looks as their family ushered themselves off before the crowd, Ashton already being detained by several guards, the fallen man being attended to. Luke raced past his family and to his bed quarters where all of his preparations lay. He’d packed common clothes and necessary food items to sustain them for a few days. He knew the journey would be rough, but not comparable to living his whole life in misery. At least he would finally be happy and who he really was.

A knock on the door had Luke scrambling to hide his items but it was Jack who stepped through before Luke could call for entry. If Jack had noticed his bags he didn’t say anything about them, instead he took a seat next to Luke on the bed. The room was silent, a thousand words left unsaid. Luke would truly miss his brother, the way they could sit in silence and say all that needed to be said.

“I’ll miss you once you start your new life,” Jack said tentatively. Luke looked up quite surprised. “The marriage and all, sure we can visit but it won’t be the same.”

Luke nodded; the words seemed to have a double meaning to Luke though. His brother, aside from Ashton, knew him the best in the world. If Jack hadn’t figured out what Luke was up to yet, it would only be a matter of minutes before he did.

“How are things with your wife anyway?” Luke asked trying to keep the topic of conversation away from him.

“We’re expecting,” Jack reported.

It wasn’t unusual to have children so young and so soon into a marriage but Luke always expected Ben to be the first father. The whole kingdom expected him to have fathered by now, but Ben was too caught up in the rebellion.

“Congratulations,” Luke said though he wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if Jack even wanted it.

He had seen how unhappy Jack was in his marriage, a baby may bring them closer but it may also put a bigger wedge between them. Luke couldn’t imagine himself in Jack’s position and was so, so grateful that by tomorrow he wouldn’t have to be. He’d be off with Ashton, searching for Calum and Michael and a purpose in life. He wouldn’t just be Prince Lucas anymore, nor would he eventually be King Lucas. He would just be Luke.

Jack left shortly after their discussion, a forced thank you to Luke’s congratulations and he was off. Luke lay back in his bed; letting thoughts of freedom carry him off into sleep. Soon enough he felt himself falling farther and farther into a deeper and deeper sleep.

 

 

Luke woke all at once and sprang into action, knowing he had no time to waste. He gathered his essentials and slipped out of his room, taking back halls down to the pit but fell short when he found the guards on duty actually awake and diligent. Luke nodded at them crossly, putting on a charade of superiority and power. The guards stopped him though, no matter how confident he looked, they were going to ask him questions.

“Prince Lucas, what service may we aid you in?” One asked, suspicion evident in his words as his eyes squinted.

Thinking fast Luke pulled up an explanation he knew he would not be questioned further in, “I have orders from my father for a routine check.”

The guard’s eyes widened as they stepped aside and let Luke pass them. He wracked his brain for a new escape plan; his banking on negligent guards had fallen through. He rounded the corner to the first cell and came up empty. His eyes darted around and around the cell, coming up empty each time. Panic stricken Luke moved closer to the cell, grasping the bars in a death grip. Thinking rationally Luke kept quiet for a moment, using his time to evaluate the situation.

“I heard they’re coming later today to take him for,” one of the guards started and then contorted his voice to make the word sound volatile, “Questioning.”

Luke’s hands shook on the bars, rattling them only slightly. Luke understood what ‘questioning’ meant. The look on Ben’s face when Ashton had asked for a trial by the sword was finally adding up. Killing Ashton would put a stop to his step in the rebellion but keeping him alive was much more valuable. Luke put himself into Ashton’s mind, using all his familiarity with the man to think like him. He must have figured out the plan, overheard the idiot guards in their gossip session and escaped. How though, Luke was dumbfounded by. One more sweep of the cell and Luke happened across a hint.

Etched into the dirt was one simple word, ‘water’. Luke reached through the barricade and scuffed the word out with the tip of his shoe. He could hear the guards approaching and spun around furiously fast, throwing a look of anger on his face. He gestured to the empty cell, eyes as close to blazing as he could muster.

“Where has my prisoner gone?” Lucas demanded to know.

The guards fumbled for explanation and apology. Lucas silenced them with a hand.

“Your negligence is enough for execution. Are you in alliances to the rebellion?” The words felt like poison coming off of Lucas’ tongue but he knew he had to keep up the charade. Hopefully he could convince them silence was their best option and that he could handle it.

“No Your Royal Highness, of course not, he’s clearly escaped on his own accord,” the smarter of the two pitched.

“And why shouldn’t I have this reported? I could have your jobs and your heads,” Lucas threatened.

“I beg your pardon Prince and I don’t mean to speak out of term but this isn’t our fault, we just started our shifts,” the other spoke.

“I’ll see to it. It’d be wise to keep your mouths shut,” Lucas warned to which the guards agreed immensely.

Luke took off with a flourish, using the back exit of the pit and once out of eye shot sprinted to where he knew Ashton would be waiting. The smell of salt water assaulted Luke as he ran, sand splayed out in his extreme pace his bag of essentials bumping against his side. Luke stopped once he hit the water line and searched around. Ashton would not be stupid enough to be in plain sight. Up and down the coast line Luke scanned and then looked to the tree line to the left of the water.

Something rustled, as if leaves being stomped on repeatedly. Luke then knew Ashton was tucked away in the shadows of the trees; he marched on towards the wooded area and was caught up in an embrace as soon as he was hidden. Butterflies invaded Luke’s tummy as arms wrapped around him pulling him closer and closer until there was no space between. Luke knew there were questions to be asked but his mind had slipped away from him, all thoughts centering on the man holding him.

“How?” Luke managed to ask once Ashton pulled away.

“There will be time for answers later, right now, we have to move,” Ashton said in lieu of an explanation. He grabbed Luke’s hand and hustled them deeper into the forest.

At first Luke struggled to keep up with Ashton’s practiced steps through the dangerously littered forest. Every loose rock, every fallen branch, every divot in the ground posed a threat to Luke, his long legs fumbling around to match Ashton’s haste. Luke tightened his grip on Ashton’s hand, feeling as if they were his lifeline. Luke knew it was only a matter of time before the castle noticed his absence and less time to note Ashton’s empty cell. They had to be swift, they had to have a plan. Luke’s plan was to follow Ashton. He assumed the older man had a better plan.

Breathless and dizzy from the exertion Luke was delighted when Ashton finally stopped moving. Luke took a moment to regain his breath into a form of normal breathing and looked around. He had no idea why Ashton had chosen to stop here, it was just more woods surrounding them. Ashton noticed Luke’s problem and pulled him over to a log for a sit. Luke didn’t have to ask Ashton why they had stopped; he was already explaining it to him.

“This has always been my rendezvous point with Michael and Calum. I’m sure they’ll be round soon.”

“Why here?” Luke inquired, once again noting there was nothing special about the place.

“This was the place we first encountered each other when I ran away,” Ashton said softly, the mention of such things still bringing a little sting to Luke’s heart.

Understanding the situation Ashton was in and accepting it was two different things for Luke to handle. He knew why Ashton had to leave; he just couldn’t accept that Ashton would leave _him_. Something wasn’t adding up with Ashton’s story though. Bells of rallies rang in Luke’s ears.

“I thought you met at a rally?”

“We did, back when my father was alive and leading the rebellion. We fell out of touch after his execution. Not soon after their parents were executed, you probably wouldn’t remember it though, there were so many of them during that time.”

Luke resented Ashton’s statement of not remembering though it was completely true. His time on a high throne above the executions all blurred into one another after a while. All but one. That day was vividly clear in Luke’s mind, even eight years later, Luke could still picture twelve year old Ashton’s grief stricken face, hear his haunting screams of pain.

“Well I’m glad you found each other,” Luke offered as sincerely as he could.

Leaves rustled with footsteps, twigs snapped with stomps and a very distinct voice called out, “I told you we’d find him.”

Ashton shot around, his attention pulled to his friends entering the clearing, adamantly bickering with the other. Ashton shook his head fondly at the mismatched pair.

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t,” Calum’s voice objected. “I just said it might take a while.”

Ashton stood to meet his two friends, hugs for both. Luke took a moment to collect himself a little more fully and then hesitantly approached amidst the conversation they had started, picking up in the middle of it.

“We went back to the cottage. It was totally destroyed, burnt to the ground,” Michael explained, a need for vengeance coating his words.

“Where have you guys been the last couple of days then?” Ashton asked. 

“Incognito, total hiding,” Calum announced. “We have wanted posters now too Ashton.”

“And we’ll be captured if we keep standing out in the open,” Michael interjected with a haunted look. “I really don’t have the skills for a sword trial.”

“You have _no_ skills,” Calum corrected to which Michael nudged him in the ribs.

Ashton broke apart the bickering quickly and looked to Luke as if he held the answers. Luke went wide eyed at the thought of leading them and shrugged his shoulders indignantly. Ashton smiled at Luke putting a little ease on his thoughts and turned back to his friends.

“This way,” he said simply and began to walk, Michael and Calum following him like lost puppies.

As they went further into the woods it became apparent Ashton had no real goal in mind other than getting them as far away from the castle as possible. It was high time that somebody had noticed the prison break other than the two gullible guards. Ashton must have known that for he didn’t stop moving for what felt to Luke like hours. With throbbing feet and aches all over Ashton finally stopped once the sun was setting behind the tree line.

“We’ll have to make camp here,” he declared. They had come to a concave of boulders, shadows hiding their makeshift camp.

Luke settled in next to Ashton after he had built a fire, Michael and Calum declining to do so based on the fact that they had searched all day and night for Ashton and were ‘tired’. Ashton sent them out to forage for anything to eat, reminding them of which berries were poisonous and no matter how tempting they looked, do not eat them.

Michael laughed, “That was one time!”

“Three times,” Calum argued as they stalked off.

The orange glow of fire surrounded the two boys who now had a few moments of silence. Luke subconsciously scooted closer to Ashton who was emanating warmth. They had not talked of what happened the morning of Ashton’s trial but they had not distanced themselves from the other either. Luke figured that was a good thing, and the ever present butterflies in his tummy were finally making sense. Every time Luke so much as glanced at Ashton they seemed to intensify in a most wondrous way.

Now as Ashton looked over to Luke with only inches between them, the glow of the fire lighting his face in a warm embrace, his hazel eyes sparkling Luke realized he was in fact in love with Ashton. No matter how wrong it may have seemed to the world it felt more than right, it felt like love. And there’s never anything wrong with love.

“I-“ Luke started, the confession on the tip of his tongue, about ready to burst but was cut short as hooves disrupted his speech.

Ashton broke gazes to inspect what was going on; when he sprang to his feet he nearly knocked Luke over. Luke looked up to see Ashton with his hands up and pulled back near his chest as if to pose no threat. Turning, Jack came into Luke’s line of vision on horseback, an unreadable expression donning his face.

“This isn’t a kidnapping,” was the first thing that Ashton said.

Perhaps a bit inappropriately in the certain circumstance Luke laughed at Ashton’s words. It was absurd, the notion of Ashton kidnapping Luke, but then again he’d already been falsely accused of it once. Luke’s family would love to believe that he was helpless enough to fall into a kidnapping twice by the same man.

“I know,” Jack replied as he hopped off his horse and strode forward. Luke inspected Jack; he bared no weapons visibly, and had already confirmed to Luke he didn’t want to harm Ashton.

“Why are you here?” Luke asked then, believing that he knew the answer already.

Jack was probably going to tow Luke back to the castle, back to his arranged marriage, back to ruling a kingdom that he didn’t want. The thought of such a dismal future made Luke internally shutter and perhaps a bit externally as well as his brother and Ashton looked over at him in concern for a glimpse in time.

“I’m here to firstly make sure you’re okay, and secondly extend a hand to Ashton after what Ben did to him,” Jack explained approaching slowly with his hand offered.

Reluctantly Ashton shook hands with Jack, confirming some sort of a standstill. Luke didn’t understand how Jack had found them; they’d been running for miles, hours underneath the setting sun. Luke was about to ask Jack that very question when Michael and Calum came from around the opposite bend, foraged foods in their clutches, and as they spotted Jack they threw their arms up, all food tumbling to the ground.

“It’s not a kidnapping!” Michael exclaimed, this time it was Jack who laughed.

“I’m not here to rescue Luke,” Jack calmed the storm. Luke’s stomach lightened, the notion of freedom considerably lightening his whole mood. “I’m just here as an ally.”

Luke was shocked into disbelief; Jack had never been so bold. He’d always told Luke what he wanted to hear but inevitably fell into Ben’s plans, being strung along by their older brother and the force of power. Jack bearing alliances to the rebellion was a major step towards stopping a revolution. With two Hemmings on Ashton’s side, there was no way Luke’s father wouldn’t at least listen.

“Ally?” Ashton questioned a bit skeptically with every reason to. Luke’s family had been the one to do the most damage to his life. It was going out on a limb to trust Luke, but it was hanging by thread of the limb to trust Jack as well.

“Ally,” Jack confirmed with one more shake of the hand. “I want to listen to you; I want to unite the kingdom back to what it once was. I want to stop the war.”

“War? What war?” Calum asked worry etching every syllable. Jack picked up on Calum’s unease and slipped into his charismatic princely demeanor. 

“There is no war, yet. With your help, there shall be no war at all. We can put a stop to the revolution _together_.”

This all sounded too good to be true to Luke, happily ever after’s didn’t just happen around him. Trial and error, a lot of error, usually happened. The only person he’d ever known that got a chance at happiness crushed it into a thousand pieces in a twisted game of war, thus ending other people’s happiness. Luke reached for Ashton’s hand in comfort, a knowing feeling treading its way through his once light stomach. 

“How did you find us?” Luke asked, needing to know. If it were that easy for Jack to find them, the rest of the kingdom could be on their way.

“I saw you take off into the forest from the back garden. I ran to the stables and grabbed a horse.  I followed your foot prints the rest of the way,” Jack explained.

That wasn’t very calming to Luke, if one man could track them down he didn’t want to know what expert hunters and trackers could do. Suddenly their makeshift camp site felt too open, the fire he watched Ashton make seemed like smoke signals now, calling to their enemies. Ashton squeezed the hand that Luke had grasped around his in a sign of comfort, if Jack had noticed the sentiment he didn’t comment on it.

Paranoid and uneasy Luke thought he heard approach all around him, footsteps, hooves, unsheathing swords and hooking of arrows. Jack’s face contorted as he launched himself into Ashton, the two tumbling to the ground, Luke’s heart thumping uncontrollably at the random act of violence, until it made sense. Blood spilled from Jack’s chest, an arrow end ripping from his vulnerably unprotected chest. Luke fell to his knees as war cries rang through the air.

Michael and Calum surrounded Ashton instinctively, flocking him with worry. Luke reached for Jack through the haze his mind had succumbed to. Ashton was beside him once he pulled himself out of the dirt. The battle cries stopped in a deathly silence, only the chirping of birds surrounding them in a horrifically wrong sort of way.

“No,” Ben’s voice shook through Luke. Everything had come to a standstill, the paranoia of approach a reality soaking in blood.

“He’s gone,” Ashton whispered, a stained hand checking for a pulse.

Beneath Luke lay his once lively brother, behind Luke stood his brother’s murderer, Ben. Luke stood and spun around, his eyes blazing, his haze turning red. Before he could so much as step once more Ashton had him in a hold, pulling him back whispering words that went way over his head in his rage. Ben’s men had gone still waiting for his word to attack, but Ben had gone ever stiller.

Luke felt the tears trailing down his cheeks but would not wipe them away; he wanted Ben to get a good look at what he’d done to their family. Ashton managed to get Luke to back off, ushering him to Jack’s abandoned horse as Ben’s men rallied behind him, still waiting for the word of attack. Luke lost track of Michael and Calum as Ashton led them off on the horse, but he figured they were behind them, the world spinning around Luke as hooves pounded the soaked ground.

Luke tightened his grip around Ashton, nuzzling his head into the back of his neck, letting his eyes fall shut as tears still escaped them in a stinging reminder. Pain erupted through Luke’s chest, all thoughts of Jack puncturing him deeply. Wounded and broken Luke let Ashton take the reins of his life and ride away from his problems.

“It’s going to be okay,” Ashton reaffirmed as they bounded along.

Luke didn’t truly believe Ashton but the words were an embrace of false comfort and made him feel the tiniest bit of hope that things might turn out better, if not okay. Ashton kept speaking to Luke through his tears, the sound of his voice lulling him as wind whipped past them, leaps and bounds past obstacles in their way. Ashton’s warmth radiated through and touched Luke’s heart as Ashton kept up his sentimental words, slipping in apologies. Luke didn’t know how far Ashton was riding off to, but the farther they went, the better he began to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and everything!


	5. A Rebellions End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it folks, the last chapter to my first fic. Thank you to anyone who has stuck it out in reading this. Thank you to anyone who left kudos or comments. They truly do mean so, so much to me and actually keep me motivated in writing. Anyway, enough sappiness. I hope you like the chapter. :D

Ashton and Luke rode well into the night, stars and moon shining above them in a lighted path. Luke’s tears had stopped but the pain had only intensified when he realized he could shed no more tears, the expression of sorrow being replaced by an ever steady ache in his heart. Luke’s heart ached for Jack, for Jack’s wife, for his unborn child, and for Ben. Luke knew Ben had no intention of hurting Jack, let alone killing him, but he had, whether it’d been his arrow or his men’s, it was Ben’s fault entirely.

Ashton stopped the horse, waiting to dismount until Luke unwrapped his arms from his waist, his hold iron like. Luke hefted unsteadily on wobbly legs from the long ride he wasn’t accustomed to, leaning on Ashton for support. Not far off in the distance a new pair of hooves trailed, anxiety gripped Luke’s stomach twisting it fearfully; he could only hope it was not Ben or one of his men sent to follow. He didn’t think he could face him so soon, not while blood was still crusted on his hands.

Emerging from a thicket of trees was just Michael and Calum sharing a horse with a royal saddle, how they’d managed to obtain it was left unanswered as Luke sagged into Ashton’s side, tiredness crushing down on him. Michael was the first to throw him a look of pity, the simple glance shattering Luke’s resistance. He didn’t want pity, he wanted his brother.

Ashton led Luke along a small clearing of a path, overgrowth neatly trimmed up to a small dilapidated holding. Luke wondered if this was the remains of the cottage but knew Ashton wouldn’t be foolish enough to head to a place that had already been pillaged and marked down. Ashton pushed the makeshift door open and guided Luke to a bed, it was ragged and dirty but a bed nonetheless. Luke didn’t have to ask Ashton where they were or how he knew this place existed, Ashton was already explaining it.

“This was my first hide out; I abandoned it a few years ago in favor of somewhere a bit closer but still in no man’s land.”

Just the sound of Ashton’s voice was soothing to Luke, his presence in all a great comfort, just the knowledge that he was there with him warming him immensely. Luke was tucked into Ashton’s side as they sat on the bed, Ashton scooted as if to give Luke room, but Luke was having none of it; he needed Ashton close. The door opened once more, Calum and Michael slowly walking through, a bundle of fire wood in their arms, dazed and tired looking expressions donning their faces.

On top of his brother’s death, Luke now felt guilty for all he had put these three through. If he’d just stayed in the castle like he was supposed to, if he hadn’t been helpless enough to have been kidnapped by extremists, if he had just went off to his arranged marriage, if he’d just forgot about Ashton their lives would have been so much easier. He could visibly see the toll his actions had taken on them, dark circles under each of their eyes, paler complexions than usual, dragging limbs as they walked.

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispered all other words escaping him.

Ashton shook his head in disbelief, “For what?”

“It’s my fault, everything is my fault,” Luke tried for explanation but couldn’t quite articulate the thoughts racing through his ever tired mind. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep but knew his thoughts would keep him awake, haunting him. Flashes of Jack’s last few moments lingered in his conscious mind; he didn’t want to venture into the uncontrollable force of sleep.

Ashton was adamant with the fact that none of it was Luke’s fault; Luke wanted to protest and confess all his guilty feelings but didn’t have the energy. Michael and Calum had taken refuge in their own corner of the shack fondly using the other as pillows; all their long limbs sprawled over each other familiarly. Ashton lay beside Luke wordlessly, his touch the best comfort.

Morning drifted into the afternoon and the afternoon bled into evening as the boys rested uneasily, Luke’s mind still stuck in a never ending cycle of pain, the thud of the arrow still ringing through his ears. Screams echoed around his mind, the pain that death caused him immeasurable. A steady silence had settled around the eerie cottage and yet Luke couldn’t escape the noise rattling his brain, shooting pain through his skull. Once the sun was finally down and set, the night sky offering little light from the stars and moon shaded by the enormous trees overhead Ashton broke the silence.

“We need a plan.” 

“Plan for what?” Calum asked rubbing at his tired eyes with clenched fists.

“We’ve evaded them enough, we need to stand up. We cannot keep backing down,” Ashton said.

Whatever standing up and not backing down entailed Luke wasn’t sure but Michael seemed to pale visibly at the words as if they racked an ultimate horror through him and whispered, “Just like our parents.”

The sentence brought enlightenment to Luke, he realized, they’d all lost their parents due to _his_ father. Luke’s stomach filled with even more guilt, one of the worst feelings in the world, alongside grief, they seemed to be assaulting him from all sides relentlessly. Pulling him from his stupor of horrible feelings was three knocks and bang on the side of the cottage, Calum immediately perking up in recognition. He shot himself to the door and peered out a small crack, as if to investigate beforehand. Once he was satisfied he opened the door to a stranger.

“That’s one of the rebellions informants,” Ashton explained lowly so only Luke could hear. They were now sitting up, pressed as close together as they’d been before Jack had rode up. The familiar position put those three little words back into Luke’s mind but he held his tongue so he could listen to what the informant was saying.

“War flags have been raised at the castle there’s no more stalling the inevitable,” the informant said her voice carrying past the entryway over to where Luke was. “It’s war.”

“Already?” Ashton asked shooting up from his position on the bed.

“Riots broke out in the villages when the soldiers marched through. The whole town is a flame with fight.”

“Then I must fight with them until the very end,” Ashton declared looking to Luke apologetically. “I may not have started the rebellion but I have been leading it, and if I can’t stand with my people when they need me most then I am not a man but a coward.”

 

 

“Don’t go,” Luke whimpered ever so softly not believing Ashton would hear him.

“I have to,” Ashton replied, his tone almost neutral, Luke could just barely pick up on the strain of keeping himself calm.  

It was as if it were the first time Ashton was leaving Luke, the pain so raw and somehow fresh, the reasons were different entirely but the pain was all the same. Luke understood why Ashton was leaving, he knew it was the right thing to do but it felt so horrible. Thoughts circled his brain; a feasible option he’d been mulling over since they’d rode away from the cottage and into the outskirts of the villages where fires blazed, mass destruction surrounding them. How they hadn’t been spotted yet was miraculous.

“Let me go with you,” Luke offered.

The silence that ensued was strangling, Luke’s breath held as he waited for Ashton to respond, but he didn’t, not for a long while. When he finally did it was words Luke knew he would say, “You can’t. If something should happen to you it would be my fault.”

“It’s my own choice,” Luke defended quickly.

He’d been sick and tired of being told what to do and when to do it, that’d essentially been the recipe for his whole life. He wanted to get rid of the strings that other people pulled on mercilessly; he didn’t want to be a puppet anymore. Ashton let out a puff of air in contemplation, his eyes scanning the war raging around them. The villagers had gone into a rioted defense to the army stomping through their grounds, the army retaliating with violence without hesitation. No one seemed to be safe in the battle around them.

“Alright,” Ashton amended with a gigantic shrug as if he were throwing all reason out the window and into war. “It is your choice; I just want you to be sure you’re making the right one.”

Luke thought about it for a moment. He despised violence and everything that went with it, but he could not just sit on the sidelines while Ashton risked his life. Luke finally felt like he had something to say and if this was the way to articulate it, he’d be damned if he were to not jump at the chance. He was doing this for Jack, but ultimately and most importantly he was doing it for himself.

“I’m sure,” Luke said his confidence surprising even himself. Ashton looked to him once more for a visual confirmation. Luke nodded his head in agreement, his jaw set as his eyes blazed with the fire that had been set in the center of the village.

“Just stay close okay?” Ashton asked, worry evident in his voice.

Luke was thankful that Ashton hadn’t told him no, hadn’t pushed him into doing something he didn’t want, he was thankful Ashton was letting him be himself. Luke mustered up all the courage he could as they made their descent into the raging village. Swords and arrows, fires and smoke, blunt clubs and makeshift weapons waging around no matter if they hit their target or not they caused irreparable damage. Bodies scattered the ash filled roads, Luke kept his eyes trained up, the sight making him queasy as he pressed on following Ashton.

Luke caught sight of Michael who seemed to be fighting his own battle in vigorously protecting Calum from oncoming attacks; he wielded a piece of fallen timber as a weapon against a sword without so much a helmet for protection. Flaming arrows shot past Luke and Ashton singing the air as they went and landed in dead air, missing its intended target, whatever it may have been. The flames snuffed out as they reached the ground, Ashton stomping past them in determination to reach Michael and Calum.

For once in his life Luke felt invisible amidst the chaos. Nobody seemed to pay attention to him, no one cared that he was standing in a battlefield; all except Ashton, but that had never really been an exception. Ashton had always paid attention to Luke, listened to him complain about the trivial things, offered him smiles in the castle hallways even when he’d had the short end of the stick. Ashton was a constant light in Luke’s life, maybe he’d taken some of with him when he left Luke but it there was still an afterglow lingering around from the impact he’d made on his life.

Ashton inexorably terminated anyone who so much as got in his way, one arm used for battle, the other outstretched to keep Luke in his clutches.  The last thing Luke wanted was to get separated from Ashton; he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it. The death around him was one thing, but the void of uncertainty and not knowing of his wellbeing was a totally different and more horrific thing. Luke fought back as best he could, his muscle memory of training with swords kicking in as he grappled with an outraged civilian. At this point it was no longer us against them, it was one for all.

“How’s it going?” Ashton asked Michael as they’d finally neared them enough to be in hearing distance over the commotion. Ashton’s hand fell from Luke’s as he and Michael used their joined arms to push back a deranged person grasping a torch, he fell to the ground with a thud his head smacking the ground, just as Luke’s had when he’d been kidnapped, a faint ache rippling through his skull.

“Oh dandy,” Michael replied swinging his weapon out incautiously, damaging anyone who dare get close to him. Heat spilled its way to Luke’s back, a new fire had been set on the village’s market behind them that was spreading rapidly. Cracks thundered around them as splinters and timber rained down on them, Luke throwing his arms over his head in protection of the falling hazards. Ashton led his group forward, more men and women alike filing in to back up the fight. Soldiers tried pressing in on them but they were sorely outnumbered.

Calum was beside Luke now as they stayed behind Ashton and Michael, time seemed to have no sense as events blurred past Luke, all the commotion endless. It was all out guerilla warfare, ambushes and attacks relentless. Caught up in the storm Luke was pulled by the chest his whole body toppling to the ground in the strangers grip. Blows came down upon Luke’s face, pain coursing through his nose as he heard an ungodly crack. As soon as the attack had come it was gone, the person above him flying away as Calum stood above him with an outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” Luke managed past the blood dripping from his once button nose. He was sure it would be mangled and take some time to heal, but he was otherwise happy that Calum had so swiftly stopped the attack.

“Take this,” Calum offered as people stumbled into them all senses of right and wrong gone, cathartic releases all around. Calum handed Luke an iron rod, it was no sword but it was better than nothing. Calum clutched his own makeshift weapon as the boys went back to back to better fend off attacks.

Something inside Luke broke as he watched the violence surrounding him; anger pulsated through his veins. He knew whose fault this was and it made his stomach churn just thinking about it. He was mad at himself for not stepping up sooner, for being a bystander in the crumbling kingdom, just letting this happen. Savagely Luke took down an oncoming soldier who hadn’t seemed to recognize him through the blood and grime painting his face in his war efforts.

The soldiers were armed well, new weapons coming out of seemingly nowhere but by no means were they a match for all the civilians and their homemade weapons and the fires raging through the town’s center. One misstep and you were to be thrown into the blaze to an untimely death. More and more villagers poured out through the woods, coming from their own homes to help the effort that had built. For once in his life Luke felt a part of something bigger than orders and lessons, he finally felt a sense of community and family. All these people had come to aid in their efforts selflessly, with no personal gain other than something they all believed in.

He’d lost sight of Ashton but kept going knowing in all his heart he’d made the right decision. Calum was hollering something to Luke from behind, their backs still pressed together as they fought on, unable to put together the unintelligible screams from Calum Luke pivoted to get in a better position for ear shot.

“We’ve got to get back to Mikey and Ash,” Luke finally deciphered.

Luke was in total agreement with Calum as he scoped out the battle grounds, the flames tearing apart buildings, the heat only intensifying and making Luke sweat more than his usual exertion would allow. Luke pivoted so he was back to back with Calum once more, the tactic working much better to keep away attacks on all sides.

Anxiety worked its way through Luke, the burning of the fire nothing compared to the heat of his nervousness. Luke kept searching for Ashton and Michael through his fights, fending off all soldiers and ducking arrows and dodging swords he just could not find the curly haired man. A round of flaming arrows shot near Luke and Calum, Luke quickly picking up a piece of burnt roofing to cover them. The arrows notched into the roofing with only inches to spare in front of his bloodied face. Calum let out a breath of relief.

“Good thinking,” Calum complimented as they went back to their positions.

With only a moment’s hesitation on Luke’s part he found himself back to the ground, all air rushing out of him rapidly as intense pain shuttered through his ribcage, Calum falling along with him not aware of how dependent they’d become on the others balance. Luke was totally blindsided, he didn’t know what hit him or why the pain was so vehemently increasing or why his stomach felt so warm and sticky. Nothing was adding up in his fogged mind as black edged its way into his line of vision. Bursts of hot white erupted around him dotting his sight in a malicious attack until he could see nothing more, only darkness embracing him quietly.

 

 

Hazy and disoriented Luke awoke to light directly overhead, Ashton’s smile dazzling and eyes glossy with tears. His ribcage was tight, every breath he took shooting a new pain through him as he lay there confused past belief. His head lulled to the side trying to figure out where he was and why he was in pain but nothing gave even the slightest hint to explanation. A gentle hand caressed his face whisperingly soft through callouses. Luke looked back to Ashton something in his expression conveying his curiosity.

 “You don’t remember?” Ashton asked softly to which Luke was grateful for. His head didn’t so much hurt as it had unknown pressure.

“No,” Luke croaked out.

“I’ll explain it,” a familiar voice chimed in with an edge of anxiety.

Luke turned to face the voice and saw Ben step from the shadows of a corridor, Luke’s mind was finally able to compute his surroundings; he was in the pit with Ashton to his right, Ben coming from his left and two other figures looming near his feet. Ben launched into the story refreshing Luke’s memory vividly, all of it coming back with a crushing force.

“And then you were struck by a blade, thankfully it only wounded the surface and you’ll be alright.”

“What about the villagers?” Luke asked warily, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear what had become of his own people.

“They won,” Ben announced to Luke’s absolute elation. “I called for retreat when I saw them dragging you off wounded. I already lost one brother, I wasn’t about to lose another.”

Luke could tell the words were said with contrition and while he was still vastly upset with Ben for Jack’s death he knew he was in the same place as him. He could not lose another brother if he was willing to right his wrongs. Luke tried to sit up so he could face his brother but the pain was too much to bear on his own so Ashton was right there helping him sit up.

Once Luke was eye to eye with his brother and had noticed the two other figures were just Calum and Michael who bared their own war wounds he spoke, “What happens now?”

It seemed to Luke that no matter how hard he tried he only ever ended up right back where he was, within the confines of the castle. He knew somewhere deep down that this was not where he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to do, that this is not what he wanted even in the slightest.

“Now I overtake the throne,” Ben declared, Luke wasn’t sure if that was the best idea until he continued, “I realized if I can’t stand with my people, they’re no longer my people and I’m no longer a person. I became a monster that was caught up in the wage or war. I just hope to do a better job than what father taught me. I know my right hand man won’t let me get out of line.”

“Who is your right hand man?” Luke questioned.

Ben looked over at Ashton who smiled so incredibly proud of his accomplishments. Luke was even more so proud of Ashton than Ashton could ever be for himself. He’d watched the love of his life be damned to a life as a castle servant, to break free of his binds and lead a whole rebellion into over throwing the monarchy.

“I learned a valuable lesson from him. If I cannot stand with my own people then I’ve obviously done something wrong. I think it’s high time we reunite the kingdom and stop the separation we built.”

“So does this mean we won’t be executed for being in alliance with Ashton?” Michael asked.

“Of course not,  no more executions, I actually have a proposition for the two of you,” Ben began and led Michael and Calum out of the pit all the while pitching his ideas to the two eager boys.

Once the three were out of sight Ashton wrapped both of his arms around Luke, less for support and more for the comfort. Ashton dipped his head so he could murmur directly in Luke’s ear, “I’m so proud of you.”

This time the words were not going to be stopped from Luke, they had to be said, and they had to be said right then, “I’m in love with you.”

Ashton pressed a kiss to Luke’s temple and brushed his fingers through his hair, “I love you too Luke.”

 

 

With Ben on the throne and Ashton at his side the kingdom was restored to peace, Ben’s marriage was back to what it once was; love and nothing else. Jack’s wife remarried not long after all was restored and bared a healthy baby boy who looked just like Jack, his legacy living on in his son’s blood. The whole kingdom mourned for Jack and built a statue depicting him as the hero he would be known as.

Michael and Calum had joined ranks with the soldiers, Michael working his way up to be a commander, Calum staying behind the scenes to help with medicines and healings all while being able to stay with Michael wherever he went. Luke’s father chose exile instead of execution for his acts against his own people, his mother deciding to stay with her sons. Ashton was happy as ever in his prime of communicating with Ben what the people wanted and needed and how to achieve that.

Ashton still saw Michael and Calum regularly, Luke even saw his little nephew as frequently as possible, so much Jack had been poured into such a tiny human that it made Luke’s heart soar with happiness. His family finally began to feel like a family no matter how dysfunctional or broken they were, Luke decided that in the end they were family and that’s all that mattered. He couldn’t pick what he was born into but now he had the power to decide how to expand on that.

Luke found himself outside the castle walls helping the villagers rebuild what once was during the days, his betrothal behind him. He would not have to wake up every morning in a loveless marriage, nor would he have to rule a stranger’s kingdom. He was helping his own people, standing beside them after the war that caused many tragedies. Never had Luke felt like he belonged more.

Exhausted from his day in the sun Luke mounted his horse and rode off into the woods, the familiar trail blending in as he pranced along taking his time to get home. Night was starting to fall upon him, the setting sun leaving little light behind him. Memories floored him as the path he took continued on. Not far from where he was just nine months ago he’d been kidnapped and his whole life had turned upside down. He never would have thought he’d be riding along this path a free man, making his own choices, living his own life.  And yet there he was, the happiest he’d been in a long time.

Luke kept on riding as the sun set until he finally stopped and dismounted, tying the horse off on his post. Luke walked the flower and fence lined path up to his home, smoke emitting from the chimney a sure sign that Ashton was already inside waiting for him. Luke had rebuilt the cottage where Ashton had taken him in as a rescue, it only felt right. Luke opened the door to see Ashton at the fireplace putting the last of it out.

Luke was only slightly confused at the picture, they would need to keep the fire going to keep the cottage warm as night fell upon them but didn’t voice his concerns. Ashton turned to face Luke, his smile touching his eyes fondly. Luke grinned in response, still not knowing what Ashton was up to.

“Take a walk with me?” Ashton asked, and because it was Ashton, Luke said yes.

Ashton grasped Luke’s hand familiarly as they headed out the door and past their horse. Ashton led Luke on a stroll, putting more and more distance between themselves and the cottage. Ashton’s hand in Luke’s felt warm and lovely, the simple gesture one of his favorites to share with his love. It was simple yet meant something immensely greater. Luke couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t take hold of Ashton’s outstretched hand.

“Where are we going?” Luke asked finally once the silence had gotten to him.

“Nowhere in particular,” Ashton shrugged as they continued walking. Luke giggled not sure why they were still walking. “I just thought it would be nice to get away.”

“So you took me on a walk?” Luke ventured.

“Basically.”

Luke’s heart fluttered at the gesture, it was such an Ashton thing to do. Eventually though they came to a stop at a log and took a seat, Luke nuzzled completely into Ashton’s side thinking how incredibly lucky he was to have ended up where he was. In retrospect his life could have gone in so many different directions, but he was glad he’d decided to follow that path that Ashton was waiting at the end of.

“Thank you for being you, Luke,” Ashton sighed contentedly.

“Thank you for letting me be me,” Luke responded, each word heartfelt.

“I wouldn’t want you to be anybody else.”

“Not even Michael or Calum?” Luke laughed and earned a poke in the side from Ashton.

“Especially not Michael or Calum,” Ashton shuddered. “Way to ruin the moment.”

Luke threw his head back in laughter as Ashton looked on exasperated at the younger boy. It was moments like these that Luke loved Ashton even more, his face all contorted as he tried to look angry at Luke but inevitably failed as love poured through his features, his eyes shining bright, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

Through his chuckles Luke proclaimed, “I love you.”

“After that you better,” Ashton teased and pulled Luke closer.

Ashton’s embrace was welcomed with open arms, Luke tucking his head into the crook of Ashton’s shoulder naturally, the fit perfect as if the other was built for him and solely him. Ashton tilted Luke’s face up moments later to kiss his forehead, then his nose which was just the tiniest bit crooked from his fight. Ashton pressed feather light kisses all over Luke’s face until he made his way to his lips.

“I love you too,” Ashton finally said against Luke’s lips.

Luke was intoxicated on Ashton, his head spinning from the love he was receiving but he needed to say something to Ashton.

“Ash?” Luke looked down at Ashton whose face turned serious as he noted Luke’s tone.

“Yes Luke?”

Luke pulled the slightest bit away from Ashton while he collected his thoughts. There was so much to say to Ashton, so much to thank him for, many memories to share, words that needed to be said. Ashton gazed at Luke patiently while Luke tried to form his thoughts into words. Luke knew there was plenty of time to tell Ashton what he wanted to share, they had the rest of their lives ahead of them, only open doors from now on, but Luke wanted Ashton to know right now.

Luke placed his hands in Ashton’s, loving the way his own small hands were so easily enveloped in Ashton’s larger ones. As he thought Luke ran his thumb in circles on Ashton’s hands, his mind bringing him back to the first time he’d met Ashton in the castle. Back to a time when Luke hated to think of his future, didn’t want to be himself because of it.

“Thank you for making me into the person I am,” Luke started. Ashton was about to interject with what Luke assumed was a whole spiel of ‘you are you because of you not me’ nonsense so Luke carried on quickly. “If not for you I may very well be the unhappiest person on the planet. I may have been surrounded by people but none of them could have ever compared to you. I may have had all the riches in the world but none of them would be as special as you.”

Ashton blushed vigorously his golden cheeks heating up and staining red at Luke’s sentimental words. His speech was sappy he knew that, he also knew he meant every single word of it. There would never be anyone half as amazing as Ashton was to Luke. There would be no one who understood Luke like Ashton.

Luke finished off his train of thought with one last sentimental and heartfelt statement he meant completely and wholly, “Thank you for saving me from who I was supposed to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, what can I say? I'm a sucker for happy endings.  
> [Tumblr!!!](lashtonsillusion.tumblr.com)


End file.
